


Loathing (Unadulterated Loathing)

by impravidus, StarryKitty013



Series: and they were roommates [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Banter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Orphans, Roommates, Slow Burn, unrealistic depiction of the foster care system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-05-18 09:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19331842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impravidus/pseuds/impravidus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryKitty013/pseuds/StarryKitty013
Summary: They really should've read the fine print. That was their first mistake.





	1. Can't We All Get Along?

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every Sunday!!! :)

Even with his enhanced hearing, Peter couldn’t seem to process the words “I’m so sorry for your loss” as he asked for his aunt at the hospital. Even with his heightened vision he couldn’t see past the tears that streamed down his cheeks. Even with his super strength he couldn’t push away the people dragging him out of the waiting room.

Peter didn’t know he had to choose what pieces of china and which silk throws he had to sell to make up for May’s overwhelming debt. He didn’t know that they wouldn’t have enough money to have a proper funeral for her, and it was his decision to rather take out money from his college fund to pay for one or settle for the basics. He didn’t know that he had to cancel her Netflix account because it wasn’t included on their expenses.

Peter wasn’t prepared to go through her clothes and choose which ones to donate and which he wanted to keep of hers. He wasn’t prepared to rummage through and hoard all of the scrapbooks, ratted up hoodies that used to be Uncle Ben’s but lost all of his scent, and cookbooks she never got to using. He wasn’t prepared to hold the urn filled with her ashes, the scent amplified in his super senses.

Peter cried until he was numb. He let the familiar emptiness wash over him, withdrawing himself from the world. It was summer vacation so it wasn’t like he had school to force himself to go to. He just had the silence, the aching pain in his heart, and the Spider-Man suit to distract himself from the real world tasks that Peter Parker had to deal with.

 

Harley didn’t know his life would be catastrophically fucked in that hospital. He knew his mother was dead and his nine year old sister was clutching onto him like a lifeline, her tears soaking into his hoodie. He knew he had a math test tomorrow that he didn’t care about or study for, but he didn’t know his life would change so drastically in just a week.

Harley’s dad had left them when he was six, so he wasn’t in the picture to rescue them from this tragedy. He knew the social service department was coming into the hospital to put them in a group home together ‘cause even if they lost their mother they had each other and that was okay.

But then Harley lost Abby too.

He got shipped out to New York and she went to a foster home in Boston. Seven hours by metro away. They had given him some BS about him being 18 and almost out of the system so it wouldn’t matter anyway. They stuck him up in an apartment with a roommate because he had signed some paper he didn’t read, and he was an adult so he should be able to take care of himself.

It was a load of BS. All of it.

 

When the two had been approached about a new system that the foster care was testing, they both figured there was no reason not to. Another thing to keep themselves distracted. They expected something like around the facility jobs, community outreach, but they weren’t expecting a proposition that would change the rest of their lives.

In theory, putting two orphan teens in an apartment to be flatmates seemed like a great way to make a new friend who supported you and understood your struggles on a personal level. It seemed like it would build character and let the almost-adults prepare for the world outside of foster care. Even though foster care aids youth up to 21 years old, most “age out” around 18, which made Peter and Harley the perfect demographic. It seemed like these two bright teens -- the rare breed of teen who studied engineering in their free time -- would click. But things aren’t always what they seem.

Harley kept up the pleasantries when the departmental lead of this new experiment led him to the apartment in Queens. He eyed his flatmate with a critical eye. From what he could tell, he was overwhelming smiley for someone who apparently was orphaned only weeks prior.

“Hi. You must be Harley. I’m Peter. Parker.” The curly haired boy held out his hand for Harley to shake, a dopey grin plastered on his face.

“Howdy-doo, Peter. A pleasure makin’ your acquaintance.” He shook his hand, taking note of his firm grip.

“Is that a Tennessee accent?”

Harley, taken aback, nodded. “Yeah. Born an’ raised in Rose Hill, Tennessee. How could you tell?”

“O-oh, well Miley Stewart is from Tennessee and it’s just such a distinct southern accent…”

“Miley Stewart? Like Hannah Montana?”

The smaller boy froze, eyes wide, face going red from embarrassment. “N-not to say that there aren’t other Tennesseans who are iconic influences in the media but Hannah Montana _is_ just such an icon on and off the screen. I mean Miley Cyrus did have her off years with We Can’t Stop but really she was just trying to shake off her Disney persona…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harley cut him off. Peter took a deep breath in and silently nodded in response.

“So,” the departmental lead began, “we will be checking in on weekends, and then we’ll check in every other weekend. We’ll just be doing some routine checks on your progress, your adaption to the new lifestyle, etcetera. We’ve brought all of your belongings which you claimed here. The ones you opted for storage is in a unit on Jamaica Avenue. If you need anything, you have my number.” And with that, she promptly left, leaving a lingering silence between the two teens.

“So, how do you want to decorate?” Peter asked, breaking the tense air.

“I really don’t care. I don’t want to look through those boxes right now.”

Peter nodded, completely understanding. “I can do it? If you want? I need something to do, and I can mix and match our furniture, see what works, see what doesn’t. I’ll just uh…” Peter could tell he didn’t care. “I’ll just do that, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sounds great.” Harley didn’t do much to mask his boredom.

“Well uh, I’m going to make a chore chart. I’ll put it up on the fridge and it’ll be on whiteboard, so we can check off when we do our chores. If you want, you can choose which ones you want to do and I’ll choose mine? Or we could alternate?” Harley looked at him, completely incredulous by his way of getting down to the nitty gritty when they had only just arrived. “You know what? I’ll just pick all the hard ones for me and I’ll put you down for the easy ones for now.” Harley didn’t respond. Instead, he trudged to the room on the left, obviously claiming it as his own, and slammed the door. “Good talk.”

 

Peter was doing his best to adapt to this new apartment. The May-less apartment. He used his super strength to move the furniture as quickly and quietly as possible, but he found that he wasn’t one for interior design. It wasn’t until Harley had come out of his bedroom had he realized how much he was anticipating his presence again.

“Don’t look at me like that. I just wanted to grab the boxes for my bedroom.” He sauntered to the corner which was left undecorated, boxes stacked high, grabbing the one labeled “Harley’s Bedroom” and promptly went right back to his room.

Peter sighed, realizing he needed a break and the stuffy odor of new apartment needed a more pleasant change. “I’m going to go to the store!” Harley didn’t respond. Peter just nodded, and grabbed two tenners from his wallet and strolled to the local grocery store for a plant to liven up the apartment and bring a sense of fresh, naturality into it.

As he strolled through the bustling streets of Queens, he felt displaced in the place he once knew as a home. May’s favorite thai place, May’s favorite clothing shop, they all felt wrong when she wasn’t there to be with him.

A little shop with a glowing sign in the window display caught his eye. “Luigi’s Fix-It Shop.” A handwritten paper was taped to the other side of the door reading “Help Wanted.”

When he entered the shop, it felt quaint and personable, mariachi music bouncing against the baby blue walls. A man with a thick ponytail and mustache fiddled with a screwdriver and a broken bicycle bell.

“Excuse me, sir? I saw that there was a Help Wanted sign. When are you free for interviews?”

The man smiled kindly at Peter, setting down his tools. “Now is just fine.”

Peter approached the counter and admired the variety of tools he had. Though he was used to high tech gear at Mr. Stark’s, these were everything an everyday mechanic could want. “So, uh I don’t have any experience at a cashier job or anything, but I have lots of skills in mechanical engineering and I can get you a letter of recommendation…”

“What’s wrong with this bell?” The man interrupted.

“What?”

“This bell won’t ring. So what’s wrong with it?”

Peter took a quick look at the item and began moving the internal mechanisms with a pair of tweezers. “The part that causes the actuator to return after it’s pressed is broken.” He grabbed a small rubber band. “Just have to disassemble it and add this for some tension, and tada. All fixed.” He rang the bell.  
“No amount of letter recommendations can prove to me your skills. That, however, just got you the job. What’s your name, kid?”

“Peter. Parker.”

The man smiled. “You can call me Luigi.”

 

So, with a little skip in his step, Peter went to the flower shop, and returned home with a smile on his face.

“What’s with the plant?” Harley questioned.

“They’re gardenias. They’re one of the most fragrant flowers, and I thought they would be a nice addition to the apartment.” Peter smiled sweetly at the bush.

“You haven’t even finished furnishing it.”

“Well, now I will.” He headed over to the unopened boxes. “What are you doing out from your bedroom?”

Harley withheld responding ‘why do you care,’ instead said, “all of that unpacking has made me plum-tuckered out.” He opened the fridge, intending to grab a cold Summer Shandy, when he noticed the abundance of the chidlren's protein shake, Pediasure. “What’s this?”

Peter’s head snapped in his direction, eyes widening as he stumbled to find an excuse. “Oh uh well uh you know I’m a growing boy.”

Harley eyed Peter up and down. “You ain’t growin’ no more, beansprout.”

Peter frowned when he knew his back was turned to the taller boy. “I was thinking since the only food is from my old apartment, maybe we could start getting some food you like? We could go grocery shopping together and I could know what to get you and vice versa.”

“Or,” Harley suggested, “we could just have a list so if you go shopping you get what I need and I’ll get what you need.”

Dejected, Peter nodded, forcing a smile. “Of course. That works.” He considered continuing unpacking but turned back to the teen who had already finished the beer in his hand. “Do you want to order in some take out? I know all the best places in Queens.”

“I think I’ll settle for this freezer meal.”

Peter just nodded again, unsure of what to say. “Well I’ll just… I’ll keep unpacking.”

The night was silent for the both of them, and if Peter thought the silence was tense, he didn’t know what was yet to come.


	2. I Hate Everything About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of One-Shots and Drabbles depicting the first months of living together

Harley Keener was many things, and optimistic was not one of them. So, when he met the boy who seemed to be living under his own personal glittering rainbow, he knew it would be a long ride.

Peter Parker was more than a bit of sentimental person. The decor that littered their apartment was beyond tacky, mismatching, and not tasteful nor subtle. In one room was a maroon rug and in the kitchen was a teal and grey one. This wouldn’t be much of a problem if the apartment wasn’t basically connected into one room, making these varying patterns clash. The mismash of Keener furniture and Parker furniture made the apartment cluttered and felt anything but a home. If anything, it felt like a hoarder’s paradise.

 

Of course there’s no way he would’ve known. Harley couldn’t possibly know that Peter couldn’t thermoregulate. Nevertheless, who keeps the apartment at 60°F at all times? Shivering in his fluffy sweater adorned with a glittery pom poms from the ugly sweater party Ned dragged him to, Peter, teeth chattering, approached Harley who was sketching some sort of mechanical suit.

“H-h-harley?” 

The blue eyed boy looked up. “It’s July. Why are you in a sweater?”

“B-because y-ou keep-p the apa-artment freezing c-cold.”

He placed his pencil on the table. “Uh yeah? Because it’s disgusting outside and I’m counteracting the heat. If you’re really that cold, go sit on the fire escape.”

Hesitantly, he chose not to start a fight. “Okay. I w-will.”

Pulling off the fashion monstrocity and climbing out his window to sit in the mid-July air, his body immediately relaxed, warmth coursing through his chilled fingers. He rested his head against the wall as he sat. 

He didn’t want to sit on the fire escape when he could be sitting in his own apartment, but things were starting to settle with Harley, and he didn’t want to risk it now. 

Yet.

 

Between the two of them, they weren’t exactly impoverished, but they also weren’t well off. With Peter’s job at Luigi’s Fix It Shop and Harley’s freelance in automobile detailing and repair, they got a decent amount of salary to at least keep the apartment and stay in the experiment. However, Harley seemed to notice that Peter didn’t have as much spare money on hand. He also noticed that the fridge was in constant rotation of fully stocked to completely empty throughout each week.

At first, Harley just paid attention to his own food that he bought, knowing that Peter knew not to eat his food, but he was starting to question the other teen’s eating habits, especially when he noticed the lack of the boy’s obsessive drink missing.

“Oh no,” Harley drawled out the words sarcastically, smirking as he leaned over the counter. “We’re out of Pediasure.” 

“I thought you went to the grocery store,” Peter groaned.

“I _did_.” 

“But you didn’t get Pediasure. I thought I put it on the list.”

“You did.” Harley took a sip of his Stella Artois for dramatic pause. “I just didn’t get it.”

“Asshole.” 

“It’s not my job to get your food with my own money,” Harley stated simply.

“I left a fifty with the note.”

He smirked. “Yeah, thanks for that. What’s up with you and Pediasure anyway? It takes up the fridge and it’s not like you’re an athlete.”

Peter grumbled, not responding to the question. “I’ll just have a sandwich.” He turned to Harley, holding the almost expired lunch meat and sliced cheese. “You want one?”

“Yeah, just one and a half.” Harley responded. 

Peter proceeded to make five sandwiches which Harley raised a brow to, but dutifully ate his one and half sandwich. When he looked up again he saw Peter had already eaten his three and a half. “What?” he asked in response to Harley’s raised brow.

“How do you eat that much and still stay so scrawny?” Harley said and Peter huffed and crossed his arms over his chest and was about to leave when he heard his stomach growl for more food, seemingly not having it’s fill. “And you’re _still_ hungry? You’re gonna eat us out of house.”

Peter’s face flushed, but he still rolled his eyes as he scurried out of the kitchen with a bag of chips.

 

Peter, Harley realized, was very mysterious. He never truly had answers for him. One thing he noticed early on is that he never had the overhead lights on in the apartment. He only ever kept lamps on or the christmas lights strung on the walls like they were in Stranger Things or something. If Harley ever turned the lights on, he would just turn them off and replace them with his alternatives. Harley really didn’t mind them. He didn’t. But that didn’t make him less curious.

“Why did you turn off the lights?” He asked Peter one day.

“I didn’t turn them off. I just turned on different lights.”

“Yeah, but it’s so dim in here now. What if I wanted to read a book?”

Peter gave him an incredulous look. “Do you want to read a book in here?”

“Well, no. But if I did, it would be too dark.”

Peter sighed. “If you decide you want to read, just turn on the lights. I just get migraines so I like to have the lights lower to avoid them.”

Harley nodded. There was no reason for him to not believe what he had told him, but something in him didn’t quite think Peter Parker was being as transparent as he led on to be.

 

The rumbling and squeaking of the dryer was incessantly on for hours because Harley put his clothes into the dryer but procrastinated enough on folding them that he would just fluff them again, then repeating this cycle over and over again. Peter wouldn’t mind it much if he had a normal person’s hearing. He wouldn’t mind it much if he didn’t have a Spider-Man suit to wash the blood off of. But, those are two things he was, and he needed Harley’s clothes out of the dryer.

“Harley, will you _please_ take out your clothes from the dryer? I need it,” Peter called out through the older teen’s bedroom door.

“I’ll get it when I’m done with these designs.”

Peter, content with the response, went back to his room.

Harley didn’t take his clothes from the dryer.

He started another dry cycle.

 

Harley didn’t know why Peter took such long showers, jacking up their water bill, but he knew that this would lead to a clogged shower, and he did _not_ want to be the one to unclog whatever shit might be left from whatever he did.

Figuring the most roundabout way to address the situation was to get a drain stopper like a TubShroom which would definitely get clogged faster than the drain itself, and Peter could clean it himself. 

Peter had taken notice to this new addition to their shower, and realized he would have to make sure to clean it out after every patrol. His long showers did nothing to wash off the feeling of blood on his hands, and only left his skin raw as he rubbed at his clean skin or open wounds. Blood should dissolve, but now that there was another person in the house, he was more worried about him noticing anything left over. He couldn’t risk his identity like that, and inadvertently became the sole cleaner of just another chore around the apartment.

 

They were just dishes. At least, to Peter they were. This isn’t a statement of superiority, or role of the household, it’s just keeping the sink clean, and using the dishwasher that basically does all the work.

To Harley it was a challenge. It was conforming to Peter’s dictatorial rules and breaking a brick off his rock solid wall. So, he refused, and he was definitely pissing off Peter.

Peter wasn’t the best at doing the dishes. His super strength took over when he handled the delicate porcelain plates and glass cups. It pained him to have to throw away May’s favorite mug or Ben’s ice cream bowl. So, to avoid the issue, Peter decided to only use plastic cups and plates. Harley on the other hand loved cooking and that left a lot of fragile dishes for Peter to tiptoe around.

 

“Peter?” 

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Uhm, school project?” Harley looked at him and his beaker that was on the table and the chem notes that surrounded him. He looked at the bubbly liquid in the beaker that was spilling onto the plate and dripping on the counter. Harley was calling bullshit.

“Why the fuck are you doing it where we _eat_?” Harley asked a bit angrily. He wanted to bake today, but how could he make edible food when it looked like a mad scientist’s experiment had barfed all over his kitchen? Peter’s potentially toxic mixture would literally be the death of him.

“The counter was dirty anyway, this way I have an excuse to deep clean it.” Peter hummed. Harley groaned and stomped out of the kitchen. “Sorry! I’ll be done in an hour!” 

 

There are many things Peter didn’t like. He didn’t like Star Trek. He didn’t like May’s burnt lasagna (but damn does he miss it now). He didn’t like impromptu interviews by paparazzi. But what he especially didn’t like was the crime against humanity that was country music. 

Spider-Man’s tech required diligent work. It required skill and focus and precise measurements. However, Peter couldn’t manage to achieve any of that when he heard Dan + Shay blasting on the other side of the wall.

As much as Peter hated to admit it, Harley was not just a good singer. He was a fantastic singer. He was such a fantastic singer that he can recite all of the lyrics to these songs while still being completely concentrated on whatever he was tinkering on. 

So, completely and utterly distracted by the smooth, rich tones of Harley Keener’s singing voice, Peter had to abandon his nightly fix-its for his suit.

 

Peter knew what it was like to sleep in late. However, it wasn’t because he was a deep sleeper, it was because his body endured so much exhaustion that he required to sleep in later. However, with his super hearing, he was rudely awakened by alarms starting at 6AM every day, followed by another after ten minutes for an hour straight. Harley was the deepest sleeper he had ever met, and required these alarms to wake up at all, to Peter’s disdain. 

One day, he thought it would be a good idea to just wake him up himself. Harley, on the other hand, did not appreciate the sentiments. He gave a good grumble and string of explicit words before flipping him off and falling back to sleep.

Peter never tried to wake him up again. 

 

It had been three weeks of hearing Harley and his fuck buddies at every ungodly hour of the night, and Peter was getting real sick of it. Even blasting his music couldn’t dissipate the unrealistically loud moans on the other side of the wall. He could hear each creak of the baseboard, he could hear each disgusting and vulgar word cried out, and he heard things he wish he could bleach from his brain.

No matter how many times he hit the wall, they still got it off for hours, round after round. It was almost as if Harley was testing Peter to see if he’d ever fight back, but he wasn’t going to. Not when he knew there was a chance things could be mended on their own. But Peter’s passivity would be his downfall, and he didn’t know what was yet to come.


	3. Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

Most teens dread the conformity, restrictions, and strict schedules that school entailed. Peter, however, had been waiting eagerly for school to take course once more. 

Peter craved the normality of school, the structure and the constants. He needed to have something he could rely on and know wouldn’t change and go away. Sure, his job at Luigi’s Fix It shop was nice, being able to listen to whatever he wanted in his earbuds as he tinkered on a range from cars to broken pencil sharpeners, but he just wanted something familiar. Something to remind him of the life he used to lead. So, he headed to Midtown High, preparing to face friends whom he had been avoiding all summer.

 

In all honesty, Peter expected there to be tension. Some sort of “why didn’t you text me at all” and “I thought we were best friends” sort of thing from Ned, but he didn’t receive it. Instead, they jumped back into their routine.

“Dude, I wish you could’ve seen it. I went to the Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge and it was completely and utterly epic. The workshop was glorious and I got to fly Millenium Falcon and I got bomb ass t-shirt and I’m sorry I didn’t text you for like two months but there’s like completely no wifi in the Philippines. But what about you? It’s been kinda radio silence on your end. It must’ve been a crazy busy summer for you too.” He leaned in closer. “Did it have something to do with a certain Spider friend?”

Peter shook his head. “I’ve just been busy. Had a big move.”

Ned raised an eyebrow. “You moved and didn’t tell me?”

“It was really last minute and you were on vacation,” Peter explained. “I’ll tell you more later. It’s kinda a long story…” His eyes were drawn to seeing Harley pass by him, a girl fawning over him and clutching his arm. 

Ned turned to see what got Peter’s attention. “Who’s that?”

Peter groaned. “Harley Keener. Pain in the ass and complete and utter asshole.”

“How do you even know him?” 

Peter had to think for an excuse. “He lives in the apartment complex I do. We got to know each other after the move. He’s an arrogant prick who only thinks of himself and plays obnoxious country music all hours of the day and night which blasts through the thin walls for one. He has people over every night and I can hear every creak his bed makes. He’s completely insufferable.” He looked over at him to see him pushing a girl against a locker, his tongue basically down her throat. “I mean look at him! It’s the first day of school and he’s already making out with some random sap enamoured by his charm, and his good looks, and his charismatic smile…”

“Sounds like you’re the one who wants to make out with him.”

“What?! No! I… I don’t,” he stammered.

“He seems pretty beguiling. I get it. You don’t have to hide it from your best friend.”

Peter slapped him on the arm. “Come on. We have to get to Calc.”

 

His day was fine. The soul crushing weight of all of his loss was heavy on his shoulders at all time, but he distracted himself with “my name is Peter and one cool fact about me is that I know how to do a backflip”s and “this summer I moved into a new apartment.” He saw the same faces he’s known for years, all already tired of high school and ready for college. It was just fine. That was, until he got to physics.

“Welcome to AP physics. I’m Ms. Pickett and my trusty dog sidekick is Cooper. You know one thing I can’t stand… yup. I can’t stand. So Coop helps me in case I drop something and helps me with any mishaps we have in the labs, so get used to seeing his adorable little face.” Peter, for the first time in a while had a genuine smile. He was just a student at school, just Peter Parker. Things started to feel normal and he knew was going to like this class. 

That was, until Harley entered.

“So sorry I’m late. This school is a maze.” His eyes locked with Peters, and they didn’t hide their disdain.

“Don’t worry about it. First days are always the most difficult. Your seat is next to,” she read her clipboard, “Peter Parker.”

Peter closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, realizing that he not only has to deal with Harley at home but now in what was going to be a great class.

As Harley sat next to him, he leaned in and whispered, “we don’t know each other. Got it? At school we are our own people and we don’t know each other.” 

Peter nodded, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t let a snarky remark slip, turning to face the board again.

“So how about we start on vectors?”

 

At lunch, no matter how hard Peter tried, he couldn’t help himself from flickering his gaze to Harley who was surrounded by his new group of friends. Guys on the top of social hierarchy, as high as you could be at a STEM school, and pretty girls who fawned over his allure. Peter grumbled to himself as he stabbed his school mac and cheese with his fork trying to not tune out of Ned’s rant.

“...and then my Aunt Xiomara was like “Kinuha ng manok yung mata ko!” and… dude? Hello? Peter?”

“Yeah I’m still listening.”

“Are you okay? It’s like there’s a personal storm cloud following you around.”

Peter gave him the most genuine smile he could muster. “Really, Ned, it’s fine. I had a long patrol last night, and I had to get a last minute shift at Luigi’s…”

“You work at Luigi’s? Since when?”

Peter, lying effortlessly, replied, “since I needed some extra cash.”

“But dude, what about-“ he mouthed, ‘Spider-Man.’

“I still have time for him. It’s senior year. I’ll be fine.”

Ned nodded, finishing off his sub. “You still thinking of NYU?”

“Yeah I am. But I’ll have to get a scholarship if I even want to consider actually going. You know how finances are right now.”

“Yeah, I know. Oh, how is May doing by the way?”

Peter froze, his face unthinkingly dropping. “She uh… she’s... “ Peter took a good look at his best friend. The best friend who stuck it through with his failed attempts at middle school romance, undeniably embarrassing My Little Pony phase, and every Spider-Man tragedy since he found out his identity. He looked to him with anticipation for him to finish his sentence with genuine intrigue and concern. This was his best friend, and he knew he couldn't lie to him forever. “May actually passed away in June. It happened right after you left to Disney.”

Ned’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God, Peter. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Did I miss her funeral?”

Peter shook his head. “I couldn’t afford one, so we just had her cremated with no ceremony.”

“How are you holding up?”

He shrugged. “I’m fine. Orphan life doesn’t have many perks, but I’m adjusting.”

“God, that’s why you moved, wasn’t it? Because you…”

“Yeah. Seventeen year old can’t exactly live on his own.”

Ned sunk in his seat. “So you’re what? Living in an orphanage now until you graduate?”

Peter nodded. “Kind of. I’m in this experimental trial for something the foster care people wanted to try to prepare teens about to age out of the system for the real world. I basically have to live with this other orphan and we pay for our rent and expenses but we are still technically children to the state.” 

“That’s crazy. Is that how you know…”

“Harley? Yeah. It’s like he read a “How To Be A Shitty Roommate For Dummies.” Total ass.”

Ned rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, Peter, if you need anything, I’m here. I will always be here.”

“Thanks, Ned.”

 

Peter never ceased to be amazed at the spike of crime once school was in session. One would think it would be during the summer -- more time on their hands, less homework to do -- but somehow school just brought the worst in people, and kids sure did like to have back to school parties. So, after a night of shutting down the “fun” of some underaged drunks stumbling through the streets of Queens, the last thing he wanted was another party.

But, this is Harley Keener.

The putrid scent of vodka, sweat, and Axe body spray welcomed his senses as he entered his bedroom. If Peter thought the rumbling base of Old Town Roads was insufferable, the pounding beats of Bad Guy by Billie Eilish was enough to give him a overstimulation headache. There was a half-dressed couple tangled together on his bed, too blissfully unaware to notice Spider-Man himself standing there. Grabbing a pair of pajama bottoms, he went to his closet and changed, grimacing as he heard the sweet nothings that the couple shared on _his_ bed.

He shooed the strangers off of his bed, removing his comforter and making a mental note to do a load of laundry the next day as he stripped his bed of it’s sheets and bundled up into the thickest sweatshirt he had. His stomach growled as he stared at his ceiling, desperately trying to find peace despite the screeching serenade of intoxicated teens outside of his door. He knew he couldn’t just go get food because he would be intermixed with the troublesome crew in his living room.

He tried to ignore it. He really did. But the loud music and strong smell of alcohol wafted in from under his door. They made his head hurt and his stomach churn a bit. Even though the lights were turned off, everything was somehow still too bright. The noise was muddling together into a loud cacophony and he just wanted it to _stop_.

Despite his exhaustion and his desperate need of good sleep, he also needed food. A full day of patrol running on two hot pockets and three Pediasures, it was definitely urgent for him to get some food in his system.

As Peter peeked his head out of his room, he started to question if he could get high just from residual smell of pot because all he could smell was the disgusting aroma of marijuana. Someone was smoking marijuana in _his_ apartment.

“Harley look! I told you there was a twelve year old in that room.” Peter rolled his eyes as Harley drunkenly guffawed. 

“Hey, darlin’. You finally joining the fun?” Harley put his arm around Peter’s waist, making the boy’s face flush with some unknown feeling.

“I’m just grabbing something to eat and I’ll go right back to my room, Harley.” He pulled away from his grasp.

“Come on, Petey. Don’t be such a prude. Loosen up.” He grinded against the smaller boy.

Embarrassed, Peter separated from his grasp. “No thanks, Harley.” Pushing past the glazed eyed boy, he grabbed a couple Pediasures from the fridge and began to sulk back to his room, when he was rudely interrupted by a room of highly intoxicated teens chanting “Peter! Peter! Peter!” He groaned, watching as the crowd eagerly awaited him to follow their commands. Knowing that he would have to give into the peer pressure (which Cap would be appalled by), he gave a forced smile, he grabbed the bottle of an unknown alcoholic substance and chugged the remainder, the burn foreign to his virgin throat, but his body already counteracting the effects of the alcohol with his hypermetabolism. The room whooped and cheered in response, now satisfied. Harley stumbled to Peter, patting him on the back. Peter wasn’t sure he really like the tingly feeling in his stomach, but then it passed and he was back to normal. 

“Huh, guess that’s how alcohol affects me.” Peter mumbled and looked down at the empty bottle. 

“Damn, Parker. You sure can drink.” Harley said and Peter shrugged him off again.

“I’m gonna go back to my room.”

“You should take a girl with you.” Peter scrunched his nose at Harley’s response. “Come on Parker. Have some fun!”

“I’ll have _my_ version of fun, and it doesn’t include _this_.” Peter glared. 

Peter tried to combat his headache, plugging his ears with high tech headphones and his glasses made to the same materials as his Spider-Man suit, and stared at his ceiling for hours until he inevitably drifted away into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind our OC Physics teacher. Starry and I sat next to each other in Physics and it's just a nod to that.
> 
> His Aunt Xiomara said “the chicken has my eye!” Thank you WAHHHHHHK for the translation!


	4. First Burn

“I know you’re from Tennessee, but I didn’t know that you actually were raised in a barn.” 

“Ouch. Nice burn. Did you get that one from my meemaw?” Harley laughed as he picked at his nails from where he lay on the couch.

“This is honestly disgusting. There’s pizza sauce on the carpet…” 

“Correction: your carpet.”

“There’s pizza sauce on  _ my  _ carpet, there’s some stranger’s vomit on the floor…”

“Not a stranger. It’s mine.” Harley said casually. 

“Gross. And there’s things I don’t even want to address all over  _ my  _ bed.”

“It’s your fault for going out when there’s a rousing party.”

“You have to clean this up. The stench alone is revolting.” Harley studied the other boy for a minute, noticing how Peter is a few shades paler than usual.

“You look a little sick there, sweetcheeks. Are you hungover too?” Harley said with a smug tint in his voice. Peter pauses and looks at him before speaking again.

“I am  _ not  _ hungover. I barely drank last night.”

“Did you? Because I seem to remember you chugging Mariah’s moonshine like a champ.”

“Ugh, of course you like moonshine. It’s the most redneck thing that exists.”

“Now don’t you go talking down moonshine in my name. It did nothing wrong to you.”

“Clean.”

“You know,” Harley stood up and walked over to Peter with heavy footsteps until he was standing over the boy. The stench of alcohol still lingering in his breath as he breathed down on the shorter boy, Peter seeming to take on an almost green colour. “I  _ am  _ eighteen. That means I’m an adult. More importantly, you’re not. So I have more authority than you.”

“You’re real full of it, aren’t you?” The younger teen glared up at him as Harley smirked down. 

“I’m full of a lot of things, darlin’, you’re gonna have to be more specific.” He said leaning closer and Peter shook his head and stepped away, arms grazing over his stomach. “It looks like you’re gonna puke.” Harley laughed and Peter glared at him.

“I’m  _ not _ gonna puke.”

“You sure ‘bout that darlin’?” 

“Shut up. And stop calling me that.” 

“Aww but I love your reaction, everytime.” Harley crooned as Peter leaned back from his approach. 

“Is this how your mother raised you?” Peter muttered before he could stop himself. It was obvious he hadn’t meant to say that because he looked like he was going to immediately take it back, but it was already out and Harley was speaking. All amusement leaving his tone.

“What the fuck gives you the right to judge how my mother raised me? You don’t go on hearin’ me criticize  _ your _ parents on how they raised a stuck up entitled brat like you? Do ya?” Harley seethed at him.

“I’m sorry you’re right I didn’t mean-”

“ _ Of course _ you didn’t mean to. Perfect Peter Parker could never hurt gosh darn fly. You know what I think? I think you’re just as screwed up as you think I am. I think that you understand this pain just as much as I do, but I think you don’t know what to do with it so you hide behind smiles and pleasantries. I think you’re a coward to not own up to reality.” Harley accused and Peter shook his head.

“I’m fine.” he said and that for some reason made Harley even more upset.

“‘ _ Fine?’ _ Let me tell you  _ sugarcube _ , you ain’t fine. Nothin’ near it. No one is just ‘ _ fine _ ’ after somethin’ like this. If you somehow are, it just means your an emotionless  _ freak _ .” Harley told him in anger and Peter looked up at him with a fire he didn’t use in his eyes as he pushed passed the older boy and into his room. 

 

Peter couldn’t bring himself to go on patrol. Sitting on the ledge of the roof of his apartment complex, in his Spider-Man suit, he could see the streets and hear the city serenity. It definitely wasn’t silent; it was a conglomeration of sounds. Honks of pissy drivers and shouts for late night taxis, the bubbly laughs and chatter of conversations. They were all the things that he loved about Queens. He closed his eyes, letting his eyes rest, and letting a a warm tear pool inside in his mask. 

Harley had called him a  _ freak _ . That’s was what had really gotten to him. He was called that a lot throughout his life. When he was little for being too smart, when he was on patrol and would get jeers and whispers that he mostly just ignored. It was on nights like these that they really got to him. He was already an outcast in school. Add the spider powers and he was just some mixture of a freak and a mutant. Sometimes he even thought of himself as a monster. 

His Spidey Sense came into play as he heard approaching footsteps.

“Spider-Man?” 

Peter clenched his jaw as he heard Harley’s voice. He was the last person he wanted to see.

“I’m sorry if I’m intruding. I just… I come up here when it’s been a hard day. It’s been a hard day, to say the least. I can leave if you want.”

As much as Peter wanted to say yes, to tell him to get out of his face, to leave him alone, Spider-Man wouldn’t say that, especially to a civilian who just wants to get some air.

“Free country, kid,” he said through his voice modifier. It didn’t change his voice much, just enough to make it unrecognizable.

“I don’t know how it works, but as a superhero do you have some sort of confidentiality policy?” Peter shook his head no. “Oh. I just… I know we are strangers, but sometimes it’s easier to tell strangers things. Do you mind if I…” Harley motioned to spot next to Peter. He shook his head. “Life has to be a bitch sometimes.” He said as he sat down “I don’t know what it is, but one moment you’re just living life, going to crappy school for people much dimmer than yourself, and you’re the smartest kid there with a loving family at home. You’ve got Ma who makes you biscuits and gravy and takes you to the junkyard to get engines to deconstruct and you’ve got a little pain in the ass who makes you walk to the park every Tuesday and watch Dora for hours upon end, but she’s your pain in the ass. And then you fuck it up. You make one little choice that doesn’t even seem like it matters and then you’re ripped away from your home and everything you’ve known. You don’t got a family. You’re at a school where your superior intellect is average. You’re in the big city for the first time on your own and you’re lost but you’ve got nowhere to go.

“I don’t know. You get this new life, and it’s not better or worse than what you had. In some ways you’ve got new freedom. You can recreate yourself into someone better. Someone who is better than Harley Keener had been. Instead you just waste it away trying to mold yourself into someone that fits. Good enough isn’t enough. You’ve just got these different faces for each person you meet and you lose who you’re supposed to be. You don’t recognize yourself anymore because that’s not you there in the mirror. He’s gone and you don’t know where he went.

“You lose your spark for life. You try to fill it with mindless pleasures but nothing will match the satisfaction you got from taking your little sister to the park or frying a catfish with Mama. You’re just nothing. You feel nothing, you mean nothing, and you get nothing in return.” He sighed. “Sorry for putting that on you. You probably have much more pressing matters. You’re a superhero. I’ll just get going.” He started to get up, but the superhero grabbed his hand.

“You can still sit with me. If you want to.”

Harley smiled softly, and sat back next to him. “It’s really loud here in New York.” 

Spidey nodded. “You just have to find the music in the chaos.”

“I’m not sure if you’d get this, but do you ever regret anything? Like you choose to do something and it doesn’t seem like it would matter and then it does?” Harley asked “like what I mean by that is -“

“Screw up one little thing and then all the dominoes fall?” Peter asked and Harley nodded “I’m a superhero. It happened more often than not.” 

“But… you’re  _ Spider-Man _ .” Harley said incredulous. “You always save people. You always have a solution.”

“Not always.” Peter whispered. “I can’t save everybody. I can only try my best and try to keep moving forward so no one else gets-“ he kind of choked up, he couldn’t have this conversation with Harley, but Harley didn’t know Spiderman was Peter. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and looked over.

“Then at least you  _ tried _ . At least you try to fix your mistake. I just let my life fall apart and watched.” Harley said.

Peter turned to the taller teen. “Sometimes all you can do is watch.”

“I should probably go back inside. Thank you for… for talkin’ with me. I really appreciate it. I hope I…” He stopped. “Have a good night.” And with that, he was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone else completely flipping out over FFH? Starry and I saw it and I was literally shaking her the entire time. THAT AFTER AFTER CREDITS SCENE THO. I won't spoil but if anyone wants to talk about it with me, my Tumblr is official-impravidus. I'm so glad this fic has nothing to do with canon because that whole movie was WACK and I can't believe it even happened. ~impravidus


	5. I'm Still Standing

Peter knew one thing, and that was that Mr. Stark could  _ not  _ know about this.

It was supposed to be a simple night of patrol. It was quiet. Well, as quiet as Queens can be with the bustling streets and rowdy late-night clubbers. Peter expected the usual: idiots trying to get quick cash from bodegas or handsy guys trying to feel up girls bar-hopping. What Peter wasn’t expecting was to come across guys with more stolen high tech weapons. It didn’t seem to be intimidating. It was just a metal gauntlet. Nothing special.

The metal gauntlet was the perfect match for him. Even with his enhanced strength, he didn’t stand a chance against the blows from that metal fist. He had managed to web up his goonies but with his back turned the wrong way, he got a punch straight to the thoracic vertebrae. Immeasurable pain burst through his body, and the feeling in his legs disappeared. 

His Spidey Sense, now picking back up again, warned him to leave the scene as quickly as possible, so, despite the excruciating pain he felt, and even more concerning, the lack of pain he was feeling, he thwipped his way out of the abandoned warehouse. He couldn’t imagine how foolish he must look, swinging through the sky with his legs limply jiggling under himself. 

As if he were on autopilot, Peter ended up on the floor of his bedroom gazing up at the ceiling before he could even comprehend what had happened. Somehow he shimmied off the suit and got into some sweatpants and a large hoodie, despite his obvious paraplegia. He couldn’t even make it to his bed, his arms so tỉred, so he just laid there until his stomach decided to rumble. He groaned and cursed his stupid metabolism, but knew he needed to get something in him so he could heal faster. He just had to figure out how to move. He looked at his wall and then his hands and slowly started to pull himself up with his sticky hands, using the wall as support.

He basically hugged the wall and only got to the kitchen entrance before he fell. His arms were way too worn out to even attempt to pull himself up again. 

“What happened to you?” A voice he absolutely did not want to hear right now sounded. 

“Fuck off,” he grumbled and Harley scoffed. 

“Why are you on the floor?” He asked again and Peter mumbled something. “What?”

“I said I twisted my ankle,” he responded irritably. 

“Woah, calm down, you big baby. Nothin’ to get in a tizzy ‘bout.” Harley said while Peter’s stomach decided to let out a growl. “Still tryna grow, beansprout?” He asked and Peter wrapped his arms around his torso and huffed.

“Shut up.”

“You’re really not gettin’ up.”

“Don’t plan on it.” Peter said lightly, “Unless you feel like carrying me.” It was meant as a joke, but Harley bent down and Peter was powerless against this. All he could do was make an indigent noise in response.

“What the hell? You’re as light as a sack of grain.” Harley muttered as Peter’s stomach rumbled again, his face flushing with a familiar red. “You should listen to your body more beansprout. Maybe that’s why ya ain’t growin’.” Peter wanted to kick from his grasp, but the lower half of his body didn’t respond. Harley, whose arms were more toned than Peter wanted to admit, not so gently placed him back on his bed. “Just stay here. I’ll be back.”

When Harley entered his room again, he had a plate of lukewarm food. “Soups on.”

“That isn’t even soup.”

Harley snorted. “Of course it isn’t. It’s meat and three.”

“And that is?”

Harley sighed as he handed the plate and fork to the paralyzed boy. “Just what it sounds like: a meat and three sides. This is meatloaf with some mashed potatoes, green beans, and corn.”

“Oh yum,” Peter mumbled sarcastically.

“Don’t bash it ‘til you try it, Parker.”

“Can’t you just order a pie?” 

“You can’t have pie for dinner. And how do you even order one of those?”

“Pizza, genius. New York’s prime delicacy. Stacy’s is  _ amazing _ .” Peter responded matter-of-factly.

Harley huffed. “No. I already made this, which you’re very lucky I had leftovers from, and maybe it will satisfy your monster of a stomach.”

Peter’s stomach let out another grumble at it being mentioned causing Peter to blush in embarrassment. “Fine. Can I have some Pediasure with it?”

“No, you’ll have meat and three. God damn it. Why are you so picky?” Harley complained.

“I’m not, but I have reason to believe this is poison.” Harley squaked indigently, getting fed up, taking the bowl and spoon from Peter and shoved a bite into his unsuspecting mouth. Peter didn’t spit it out like he thought and instead just swallowed it without chewing.

“Not bad, is it?” he teased.

Peter silently shook his head. “It’s weird.”

“Shut up and eat it.”

 

As much as Peter hated to admit it, he enjoyed having Harley’s full attention instead of getting his cold shoulder. Of course there were the snarky remarks but they were mixed with the playful banter. There was a mutual disdain but also an unspoken agreement of knowing their own places. Harley may push back, but Peter only snapped when Harley went too far. 

Harley may be an alcoholic, egotistical, undermining dick, but he also was the guy who was getting Peter extra blankets because he couldn’t get up from bed, and making sure he elevated his injury, albeit a fake injury.

Peter couldn’t imagine how Harley would be treating him if he’d have known how severe it was, but considering the care he was giving for a simple ankle twisting, he wondered what soft interior he had been hiding behind his facade of over confidence and arrogance.

Harley put on the TV in the living room as Peter sat on the couch, still unable to move.

“ _ And Spider-Man was not able to save the three people still in the building as he swung away.” _ The reporter said. Peter sank into his seat.

“Shouldn’t have left,” he mumbled to himself, disappointed for not being able to push past whatever the hell he was going through to save those people.

“What?” Harley asked and Peter looked up shocked for a minute at Harley’s quiet fury.

“Oh, I said that Spider-Man should have stayed. He shouldn’t have left the job only half done.” Peter said to Harley, light blush dusting his cheeks at talking about himself in the third person. What he didn’t expect is the older boy getting up and raising his voice at him.

“Okay, that’s not fair, Parker! He tries his best!” Harley snapped at him and Peter’s anger flared. Harley did not know Peter at his best, and tonight he wasn’t. He was being stupid and reckless and got himself hurt.

“If he’s gonna help, he should at least finish the job. It’s not like the cops want him there anyway.” Harley didn’t hear Peter’s voice crack in sadness towards that.

“I don’t see you doing any better! You’re laying on a couch because of your poor little twisted ankle, while Spider-Man is out there risking his life to help people.” Peter sank in his seat a little feeling guilty. “I’m not gonna let you talk shit about him. He’s a hero.” Harley said crossing his arms.

Peter looked a little shocked at that. “You really think he’s a hero?” Peter asked in awe. Harley paid no attention to that.

“Yeah, so what?” Harley said turning away, he didn’t see the small smile on Peter’s lips that the younger boy couldn’t control.

“Nothin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to post this a day early because Starry is out of town at the moment and I have set construction tomorrow, so enjoy this early update full of filler fluff!


	6. TTYLXOX

totally not spider-man: guys 

totally not spider-man: if you find my dead body in the east river

totally not spider-man: tell harley fuck you for me

 **do not change my name to shelly:** What happened now

totally not spider-man: UGH

totally not spider-man: he just

totally not spider-man: ugh

 **do not change my name to shelly:** Use your words, parker

totally not spider-man: he’s just so entitled and self centered

totally not spider-man: but then he does he does something so un-harley like and it’s like UGH god why do you have to be so nice

 **ned, nedd, & neddie:** so your problem is that he’s nice now?

totally not spider-man: no it’s that i can tfifure him out bc one moment he’s this asshole who insulting me for not being as great as spider-man but then he’s also this asshole who is compliemnting spider-man for being him

 **do not change my name to shelly:** But even though you’re spider-man, you aren’t spider-man to him.

totally not spider-man: EXACTLY

totally not spider-man: so it’s like this whole, if you like spider-man, why don’t you like me thing

 **do not change my name to shelly** : you want him to like you?

totally not spider-man: no

totally not spider-man: i mean like

totally not spider-man: idk

 **ned, nedd, & neddie:** i mean,,, flash doesn’t like you buthe loves spider-man

totally not spider-man: see?

totally not spider-man: now that’s a perfect analogy

totally not spider-man: harley is basically exactly like flash

totally not spider-man: egotistical prick who only cares for his own personal gain

 **ned, nedd, & neddie:** i’m still not following 

totally not spider-man: honestly? me neither 

totally not spider-man: it’s like UGh he’s so and then for some reason all i want to do is make him like me but why do i even want him to like me??? bc he honestly doesn’t give a shit abotu me so why shoutld i give a shit about him right? but like then at the same time i’m like all uwu when he says one nice thing to me and i’m confused bc like why do i care 

 **do not change my name to shelly** : Well we don’t have time to unpack all of that

 **ned, nedd, & neddie**: noah fence peter but uhhh it sounds like you like him

totally not spider-man: no!

totally not spider-man: no

totally not spider-man: No. i don’t

 **do not change my name to shelly** **:** How can you sense when a bullet is coming behind you, yet you can’t sense your feelings for Harley?   
totally not spider-man: because there are No Feelings!

 **do not change my name to shelly** **:** Seriously think for a moment. Do you /not/ like him?

totally not spider-man: yes

totally not spider-man: well no

totally not spider-man: but he’s not lik e a good guy either like 

totally not spider-man: he doesn’t respect my boundaries or my place in the apartment and he doesn’t do the dishes or any of the chores really and is just a grade a asshole

totally not spider-man: but then it’s like

totally not spider-man: we talked the other night, spider-man and civilian, and he was like a completely diffeeent person

totally not spider-man: so like

totally not spider-man: is that the real him? or is the one who i know him?

 **do not change my name to shelly:** Peter. You can’t just let one good thing overshadow all of the bad shit he’s done to you. He’s a toxic entity in your life that only brings you negativity unless you’re hidden behind your heroic persona. Think about it. Has the good he’s done for Peter ever outweighed the bad?

totally not spider-man: no

 **do not change my name to shelly:** Then why does it matter?

totally not spider-man: idk

 **do not change my name to shelly:** Well I know.

 **do not change my name to shelly:** Despite everything he’s done to you, you forgive him

 **do not change my name to shelly:** Because you like him.

 

    Peter set his phone done for a moment and stared at the wall that connected his and Harley’s rooms. _Do I like him?_

    Sighing, he texting a closing statement to avoid thinking about the truth from his friends and exited his room and was unprepared to open his door right as Harley was about to knock.

    “Did you take my allen wrench?”

    Peter raised an eyebrow. “At what point of time would even have the opportunity to take it?”

    “You’re avoiding the question,” Harley pointed out.

    “I’m not. And I didn’t take your allen wrench.”

    Harley crossed his arms over his chest. “I keep my tools organized at all times.” He scanned over Peter’s desk cluttered in a chaotic series of piles. “Unlike you.”

    “I don’t even go into your room! When would I have taken your allen wrench?” Before Harley could dispute, Peter’s phone dinged. “Crap. The department is coming today.”

    One thing that Peter and Harley _could_ agree on was putting aside their discord for one day as they cleaned the apartment and put on plastic smiles for the department. As much as they didn’t enjoy each other’s company, they didn’t enjoy living on their own more. Despite their differences, Harley did clean up after himself eventually and paid his share of the rent, and Peter kept his respectable distance and got groceries using their shared bank account for food.

    As Harley cleared the living room and vacuumed as Peter wiped down the kitchen counter and did the dishes, they heard a knock at the door. Giving one look to each other, they gave each other the same look of “here we go again” and opened the door with a smile.

    “Hi, Ms. Carson. We were just cleaning up. We didn’t expect you to come so…”

    “Early? We thought we would catch you earlier in your day so we don’t take up your whole day.” She smiled, but there was an underlying judgement in her eyes. “Well the apartment looks like it’s all in one piece. No crazy parties thrown, right?” She asked it like a joke, but also as though she was waiting for them to slip up.

    “Of course not. We go to an esteemed STEM school. We don’t have time to party when we have so much on our workload,” Harley lied effortlessly.

    “We saw that your neighbors complained of a stench similar to marijuana last Saturday.”

    Harley laughed light-heartedly. “Oh boy. What a misunderstanding. On my walk back from the grocery store, there was a skunk and it sprayed my entire body. I came back and the stench lingered in the apartment for days. We had to Febreeze it like crazy. I think they must have mistaken the scent of skunk spray to cannabis.”

    She nodded. “And the noise complaint Friday the week prior?”

    “What did it depict?” Harley questioned.

    “It was undescriptive.” 

    Harley thought for a moment but pretended to remember something. “Oh, it was my friend Marco’s birthday. Him and some friends came over for pizza and karaoke. We must’ve gotten a little too carried away. What neighbor was it? I will apologize to them myself.”

    She held her hand up. “That isn’t necessary. Just don’t do it again.”

    He nodded innocently. “I promise that I’ll do my best to keep done when I have friends over.”

    “Your rent has been on time and paid fully, so there are no complaints about that.” She did a routine check up on the upkeep and asked more basic questions and eventually took her leave.

    “I don’t know why she asks the same questions every time she visits. It’s not like the answers will change,” Peter said out loud, not expecting a response from Harley.

    “She wants one of us to say the wrong thing. She obviously doesn’t like this campaign and is trying to find any reason to shut it down.”  
    Peter furrowed his brows. “What?”

    “Think about it. This whole thing would cost the corrupt foster care millions that they definitely wouldn’t be willing to spend. The only reason it came to be was the do good philanthropist millionaires who funded the start of the program. Paying for first months rent for the sixty thousand teens in foster care in the age group for the project? Finding the housing and actually successfully finding them jobs to even pay off rent? There’s more collateral damage and wasted money than real progress. We are gonna be the first and last of a failed experiment, but at least we will have gotten something out of it.” Harley sat on the couch and groaned as his back hit the pillow. “Oh there’s my allen wrench.”

 

Peter sat in his room, unable to focus on his web solution as he thought. He had almost forgotten the reason the universe put Harley and him together. The experiment. Of course he knew that the check ins were because of it, but he had gotten used to the normality of his presence that it almost felt like they came together naturally. What would happen if the department shut down the experiment? Technically they paid rent, so would they still live together? Would Harley leave him and he would have to find a new roommate or even go homeless? Peter knew he was spiraling so he went out to the roof for some air.

He knew he shouldn’t make it a habit to get his hopes up about seeing Harley, but today he needed to face him with the mask. See him without the barrier of being Peter Parker. Like clockwork, Harley stepped onto the roof, his hair ungelled and his glasses covering his blue eyes.

“Spider-Man! I didn’t expect to see you out here.”

He shrugged casually. “Superheroes need a break too.”

“May I?” Harley asked as he approached.

“Of course.” They sat in casual silence, Peter’s gaze lingering on the taller boy as he stared out at the lights of New York. “So, say there’s a bad guy. If there was a good guy in the bad guy, does that mean that the bad guy can change his ways?”

Harley looked to the vigilante. “I think that there is always going to be some sort of good in everyone. Every psychopath has something they love. Every robber has a reason for stealing. Mass murderers can have families. Nothing is black and white.”

“But say it wasn’t a criminal. Say it was just a normal guy who didn’t make good decisions. Someone who on the outside is cookie cutter not a good guy, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t a good guy beneath all of that. Is he a good guy or a bad guy?”

“I think you’re overthinking it. From the person you’re describing, it seems that they _are_ a good person, just not on the outside. Sometimes people put up walls. The put up an act to cover up something that they don’t want to reveal. It’s easier to be this tough, extravagant, impenetrable force that no one can touch. It’s not easy to be real and to have real person emotions and to actually be weak enough to feel in front of people. It’s not easy to be you when you’re so afraid you won’t be accepted because that’s the real and true you. If people don’t like that you, then what can you do? You can’t just change the real you. But if you mold yourself into someone that people want you to be, and become this person, even if it means not being a good guy, then at least if people don’t like you, it’s not you, it’s the bad guy that you created that they don’t like, not you.”

Peter could tell that the example had become less of a hypothetical, and he realized that there was more to Harley like he had suspected. “What do you think would convince them to be themself?”

“Are you ever truly yourself? I mean, we are constantly wearing different faces for each person we interact with. You are never the same person with different people, so what stops you from never putting the mask down? When you could become the right person for everyone else, what happens when you don’t remember what it’s like to just be you?”

“Do you feel like you when you talk to me?” Peter asked softly.

“Who said this was about me? Hypotheticals, remember?” He gave him a cheeky grin.

“Right.” He smiled behind the mask.

“What about you, actually masked man? Is the guy behind the mask the same guy he is in it?”

Peter thought. “I’d like to think that Spider-Man is better. I’d like to think that he is more courageous, more brave, more selfless than the me behind the mask could be in the real world. I’m a coward. I break myself down piece by piece to build others up. I’m too emotional and reckless and sometimes that bleeds into my Spider-Man life. I say things I don’t mean and I do things without thinking. The guy behind the mask and the guy in the mask are the same, but something about the mask gives me the confidence to be better.”

Harley was about to respond but there was a scream in the distance. “Go save the day, Spider-Man.”

With one last glance at Harley’s kind smile, he swung into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting on a saturday again because tomorrow is set strike :)


	7. You Sound Like You're Sick

Harley was being suspiciously quiet today. There was no music, there was no tinkering, there was just radio silence all morning. That was, until Peter heard the coughs.

They were a chest cough, meaning they were wetter, and louder, and more obnoxious to hear hours upon end. Peter did the only thing he knew, and that was to treat it the way he would for Aunt May.

“Hey, Harley. I brought you a hot toddy.”

Harley, nose red, eyes swollen, raised an eyebrow. “A what?”

“It’s to help with your cough.” He tried to hand him the mug but he didn’t accept it.

“Why should I trust anything you give me?”  
“It has bourbon in it.”

Harley quickly grabbed the drink. “You should’ve led with that.” He hummed in delight as the warm drink coated his throat. “You shouldn’t be in here. I could get you sick.”

“Aw, Harley Keener actually cares about something other than himself?”

He scoffed. “No. I don’t want you to complain and blame me.”

“I don’t get sick,” Peter responded simply.

“Well if you don’t get sick, why do you perpetually look like shit?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’d rather you get better sooner than later so I don’t have to hear your incessant coughing. I’m gonna go get you some soup, alright?”

Harley nodded again as he sipped his drink, giving a thumbs up. He showed his gratitude with a quick “make sure it’s not a tomato based broth” and half-hearted smile.

 

When Peter came back from the store, he noticed that Harley wasn’t in his room. “Harley?” he called out.

“I lost my glasses and now I can’t see,” he responded from Peter’s room. Now panicked from what he could find, Peter set the groceries on the table and ran to the room where Harley rummaged through his desk. “Oh, glasses!” He put them on but squinted. “Woah, why does your prescription look like this? I can barely see through them.”

_ Crap.  _ Those were his overstimulation glasses for his heightened light sensitivity. “They’re for uh migraines.”

Harley nodded, pulling them off. “Have  _ you  _ seen my glasses?” 

Peter pulled the loopy boy from his room and back to his own. “Harley, they’re just on your bedside table.”

“Oh!” He giggled. “I didn’t look there.”

Peter, holding back from facepalming, guided him to his bed. “I bought you some Campbells soup. Do you want chicken and rice or chicken and stars?”

“Stars!” 

Peter smiled a strained smile and went to microwave the dish for his ailing roommate.

 

“It’s hot.”

“The AC is at the coldest it can be and it’ll take a few minutes.”

“But it’s hot.”

“Just put the damp cloth on your forehead and…”

“But it’s wet!”

Peter groaned. Harley was being insufferable. “It’ll make you feel better, Harley.” 

“Nu uh. I don’t want to get water on my pillow.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Then let’s at least get you out of that. You’ll be much cooler.”

Harley raised his eyebrows and tried to smirk but it came off as more of as a lopsided grin. “You want to get a look at the goods?”

Peter shook his head as he pulled off the sweaty hoodie off of the taller boy. “Just cooling you off.”

Harley began to shimmy off his fleece sweatpants so Peter turned around to give him privacy and hide his flustered blush. “You’re such a gentleman, Peter. Gentleman Peter Parker. Always doing good even if I’m not good.”

When Peter had turned around, he saw that Harley had managed to get his shorts on, and his bare chest was glistening from the sweat. “Let’s cool you off, okay?”

Peter wouldn’t let the situation turn to something he knew it could. Wiping Harley’s lightly-toned torso with a wet cloth could obviously be interpreted many ways, but it was platonic. Not even platonic. An obligatory step for his recovery from his flu. Nothing more. But the way Harley trailed his gaze across Peter’s biceps as they flexed while he ringed out the rag and the way his usually slicked back hair was loose and voluminous making him seem more approachable, more human, was an overwhelming sensation to Peter.

“Hey Peter,” Harley said rolling over to Peter as Peter sighed and turned around. “Why do you wear so many layers? Aren’t you hot?”

“I told you, I turned the AC up all the way.” Peter grumbled and rubbed his arms and shivered.

“Wanna come and cuddle with me then?” Harley asked innocently enough but Peter blushed and shook his head.

“No way! You’re… uhm… sick!” Peter said and then walked out of the room. “I’ll get you some Dayquil,” he said quickly, then closed the door a bit too harshly and let out a breath as he leaned against the wall.

 

Just when Peter had finally gotten a chance to sit down and take a moment of silence, he heard his roommate’s stuffy voice belt from the other room.

“Country rooooaaaads, take me hooooooome to the plaaaaaace where I belooooong. Tennesseeeeeee and the cornfieeeeeelds! Take me hooooooome, country roooooooads!” Trudging to the room, Peter opened the door, prompting the ailed boy to stop his serenade. “Hi, Peter.”

“Hi, Harley,” he responded with a hint of annoyance. “Whatcha doin’?”

“I was just singin’ a song.”

“I think you need some rest. Your body needs to recharge.”

“Butter my butt and call me a biscuit. Is that a limited edition Spider-Man pride in NYC sweatshirt? They only made like twenty of those before they came out with the final design!”

Peter rubbed his neck as he chuckled awkwardly. “I just was just lucky I guess?” He actually got the first prototype after he had participated in the Trevor Project photoshoot. 

“I love Spider-Man. I have ever since he popped up a couple years ago.”

Peter raised his eyebrow. “You have?”

“Iron-Man and Captain America may be the go to favorites of the nation, but Spider-Man just… he’s so genuine. He doesn’t come from a billionare’s wealth and flaunt his powers. He’s humble. He doesn’t just come out from hiding for the big bads. He saves people doing the little things. And of course Tony Stark has his charities and his innovations, but Spider-Man thinks about the little people.”

Peter smiled softly. “I bet Spider-Man appreciates the sentiment.”

Harley yawned. “I should get some sleep.”

“You do that.”

 

After Harley was out cold, Peter left for his patrol. When he silently entered back into his room, crawling atop his ceiling and down his wall, careful to not wake the sick Harley in the other room, he suddenly heard a large gasp.

“Spider-Man!” the stuffy nosed bystander whispered screamed.

“What are you doing in here?” Peter exclaimed.

“Peter has fluffier blankets.” He said from his burrow of blankets. 

He sighed behind the mask. “Go back to your room, Harley Keener. I am just a figment of your imagination.”

Harley merely nodded and got up without an argument. “Bye bye Spider-Man. I love you.”

“Love you too, Harley.” As he exited, Peter let out a big sigh of relief.  _ That was close. _

 

Just when Peter had thought Harley had burnt out of fuel for the night, he heard him rummaging through the pantry, not so quietly.

By the time Peter had gotten to the main room, Harley was sprawled out on the couch, his hand deep in a box of penne as he crunched on the dry pasta.

“Harley you really need to get back into bed.” Peter sternly stated as he tried to pry Harley gently off the couch.

“No!” Harley said as he dug into the couch even more.

“You’re acting like a child.”

“So are you.”

Peter rolled his eyes. He could easily use his super strength and rip the bigger teen from his pillowed blanket nest, but he knew he couldn’t risk his identity.

“Come on. It’s time to get more rest. You want to get better, right?” Harley nodded, his tongue poking out slightly from his mouth. “Then come on. Let’s get back to your room. You can bring your snack.”

Peter tucked Harley back into bed and patted his head like Aunt May used to do to him at night.

“Sleep well, Harley.”

“Good night. I love you, Abby.”

Peter looked back to the boy who had already dozed off, only leaving him with more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Sunday updates! 
> 
> I've seen a lot of Harley Keener playlists that are like hip-hop and low-fi and all of that chill, vibe music. However, I don't see a lot of country playlists (probably because no one but me actually listens to country in their free time) so if you're into that kinda jam, these are some songs that I think Harley in this fic would listen to and bother Peter with: https://open.spotify.com/user/princesslexie101/playlist/5riZNYy3kBs9tKBCb8rJnY?si=llmXzPtRT2GbIPy2sxPAsw


	8. If You Can't Hang, Then There's The Door Baby

If Harley thought four shots of tequila, three vodka cranberries, and a glass of moonshine gave a bad hangover, getting over whatever 24 hour bug he just had was even more unbearable. 

As he took another Dayquil, head pounding and sinuses still stuffed, he heard the pitter of Peter’s footsteps enter the room.

“Good morning, or should I say evening. You slept all day. How are you feeling?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Thanks for asking.”

“Have you taken your temperature yet? Made sure the fever has calmed down?”

“I will later. Happy?” He gave Peter a forced smile before taking a sip of his water to swallow the horse pill. 

“Okay. Just make sure you do.” He went to the fridge and grabbed ten eggs to scramble for supper. “Who is Abby?”

Now Harley was listening. His head snapped to look towards the curly haired boy. “Why do you wanna know?”

“Is she your girlfriend or something?”

Harley shuddered, bothered by just the concept. “Ew, no.”

“Then who is she?” Peter continued to push.

“None. Of. Your. Business.” Harley got up from the table to grab a Corona.

“Fine whatever,” Peter dismissed, realizing he wouldn’t get any answers.

“Just so you know, I have to go out of town for the rest of Labor day weekend.”

Peter furrowed his brows. “You were just sick. You can’t just leave.”

“Why do you care?”

He scoffed, a little too dramatically. “I don’t.”

“Stop acting like my mom, Parker, because guess what? She’s dead.”

“Yeah get in line.”

“Besides, you can’t tell me what to do. I’m an adult, so I’m basically the head of the household.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck off. Stop using that excuse. You’re only five months older than me.”

“Five months is a long time,” Harley took the last swig of Corona.

“No it isn’t!”

“I don’t have time to hear you complain. Now, I have to pack for a seven hour metro ride at midnight.”

“Fine, whatever. At least I’ll get some quiet around here for once.”

“Aww, are you gonna be lonely while I’m out? How cute.”

“Wha- _no_. I won’t have to hear your annoying voice at least.” Peter said and shooed him out. “Go see your girlfriend.”

“She ain’t my girlfriend.” Harley insisted.

“Jury’s still out and until you have evidence to prove otherwise all facts point to that one logical conclusion.” Peter said and looked over at the scattered blankets. “Does she know about your nightly endeavours?” he smirked. 

“ _My_ nightly endeavors?” Harley blanched. “She ain’t my girlfriend, and at least _if_ I were in a relationship I wouldn’t be the doormat.” Harley said.

“Doormat?”

“Don’t think I don’t notice those bruises Parker. You get hit almost _every night_ you’re out. Your girlfriend beat on you or somethin’?” Harley asked, Peter grimacing as he realized that he wasn’t as oblivious as he had hoped. Harley grazed his hand over the fading bruises on Peter’s exposed collarbone, leading Peter to slap his hand away and cover them with his own.

“Those aren’t from a girlfriend. I don’t have one.”

“Boyfriend?” 

“I’m not in a relationship,” he rebutted again.

“Look Parker, I’m not gonna gripe on you about your sexuality.”

“I’m not dating anyone.” Peter insisted. “No one is abusing me.”

“So its a kink thing.”

Peter grimaced. “Gross, no.”

“Jury’s still out, sugarcube.”

 

Peter knew there would be a chance that Harley would come up to the rooftop again, but a part of him wanted that. He wanted proof that there was more to him than what he portrayed. That he couldn’t possibly be the monster that he plays. 

As if on cue, he heard the approaching footsteps on the roof. He turned around to see him, his demeanor completely changed. He was kinder, more human, more real. He didn’t have the arrogance or the harsh wall, he was just a guy on a rooftop, feeling his feelings.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?” Peter shook his head. “Do you mind if I…”

“Go ahead. I could use some company.”

Harley sat next to him, a sense of deja vu in the action. “You must like the view from here. You come here a lot.”

Peter nodded. “There’s a lot of good spots around Queens, but this spot has the best people watching. It’s low enough to see the different civilians just living their nightlife, but it’s also in the center of the chaos. I can reach most stores and banks with ease from this spot. It’s just convenient.”

“Is that all?” Harley didn’t know what he was hoping he’d say. He’s Spider-Man. He didn’t come here to see him. But something in him hoped he would.

“It’s just familiar here. I’m a Queens guy. Around here, it’s the heart of Queens. Each walk of life passes by on these streets. It reminds me who I am.”

Harley nodded silently. “Can I ask you a sorta random question?”

“Go right ahead.”

“Do you ever regret not doin’ somethin’? Not doin’ somethin’ before they’re gone?” That made Peter stop. 

Of course he did. He regretted not hugging Aunt May more or learning how to play ball with Uncle Ben. He regretted blowing them off for school work. He regretted lying to May for so long. He regretted not being there enough. He regretted letting the time slip through his fingers when he knew just how precious it was.

“I-I regret not takin’ my mama to the parent square dancin’ we had back in Rose Hill.” Harley started. “She woulda loved it, but I was too embarrassed ‘cause I only knew a four step back then.” He chuckled nostalgically. “She knew all the steps up to 65. She wouldnta’ cared, she woulda jus’ had fun.” Peter for the life of him, would never get any of these southern references, but somehow he knew what Harley was talking about,

“I wish I told her about the Bake Sale at my school. She was a shit cook, couldn’t even boil water correctly, but she still had fun in the kitchen.” Peter said as he remembered the cookies that they had tried to make when he was ten. They ended up burning them and when Ben came home he had bought cookies fresh from the bakery across the street. 

“I have this little sister, you know? Her name is Abby.” _Abby._ That’s who Abby was. “She always wanted me to take her to the zoo. We didn’t have a zoo in Rose Hill, just farms. And sure, she loved the farm life with the pigs and the cows. She got to feed the chickens and ride the horses. But something about zoos amazed her. The aquariums and the animals from around the world. It was like it was the closest thing she’d get to traveling. We never could afford a trip to the zoo, let alone an actual country with those animals, so we watched those animal documentaries that came on the television, and that was enough for her. I don’t know. I just wish I could’ve taken her to the zoo while I still could. Who knows if I ever will.”

“You can’t dwell on the things that might have been. You have to keep moving forward, or you’ll get stuck in the past forever. I’ve lost a lot of people in my life whether it be family, friends, or the people I’ve tried to save as Spider-Man. That feeling of “what if” never goes away, but you have to remember that life moves on, and it _will_ move on without you.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“And I’m not saying you should just forget about those things. You have to hold on to the good and make new memories, even if it isn’t with the ones you lost. Hold on to the feeling of seeing a recipe that you’d want to share, or a movie you wish you could’ve seen with them. But, you can’t steal second base while your foot is on first.”

“I guess it’s just so hard. I don’t want to feel like letting it go is letting them go.”

“It’s not. Moving on doesn’t mean you’re forgetting them. You should live for them. Do what would make them proud.”

Harley paused. He really wasn’t doing his mother proud, was he? He had been so wrapped up in himself, he didn’t even consider the effect it had on her. Sure, she wasn’t alive, but the believer inside of him hoped she was in a better place watching over him. If she’s watching him with his self-destructive tendencies, what was she thinking?

But then he realized something. He had become addicted to the release. Addicted to the not caring, and pushing aside the pain for the easy highs. He didn’t know how to cope, and he wasn’t doing it well. Could he stop if he wanted to? Is he too far in?

“Hey, have you ever been addicted to something?”

Peter looked to him, not expecting the question. “I don’t think I have.”

“You don’t think so?”

“How do you know when you’re addicted to something?”

“You don’t. You only realize it when you’re too far in to stop.” He started to pick at his cuticles. “But that’s neither here nor there. I’ll let you enjoy your night. I’m sorry I keep dropping this on you. You’re really great, Spider-Man. Thank you.”

Something in Peter pained when he was addressed as his superhero persona. He had almost forgotten that this was a talk masked by anonymity. He had forgotten that Harley would never trust Peter Parker with this sort of information. He felt guilty for toying with his trust. But most of all, he was longing for more time with that him.


	9. You'll Always Find Your Way Back Home

Harley didn’t know what to expect when they finally reached out to him to come visit Abby’s new foster home. He expected a miserable, overcrowded hovel with a Ms. Hannigan dictating her every move. What he hadn’t expected was a lovely house in the suburbs with a quaint garden and a middle-aged woman in boho-chic pushing his little sister on a tire swing hanging from a big oak tree. 

Abby, spotting Harley exiting the Uber, tapped the woman on the arm, pointing excitedly. “Harley!” she exclaimed, running through the damp grass to get to him as fast as she could.

Harley held his arms wide and squatted to get to her level. He relished the feeling of her bone crushing hug, the scent of strawberry shampoo in his nose as he burrowed his face in her hair. As he pulled away, he smiled a toothy grin. “Now Abigail, did you get a superserum like Captain America too? Because last time I checked, you weren’t this tall!”

She giggled. “I only grew an inch!”

“You’re a giant now!” He grabbed her waist and pretended to struggle to lift her. “I can’t even pick you up anymore!”

She let out a loud belly laugh. “I missed you, Harley.”

He softened, remembering the situation. “I missed you too, Abby.” He looked up to the woman who smiled kindly to him. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Harley.”

“Oh I know. Abby never stops talking about you. You can call me Sharon.” She disregarded the hand he held out to shake, and instead gave him a hug. “Abby, would you like to show our guest a tour of the house?”

She nodded vigorously and grabbed Harley’s hand. “Come on, Harles. I have to show you my bedroom!” 

A sense of pride rushed through Harley to see his sister so excited about things, especially after such a tragic loss. He wished he understood how the girl who cried every time they watched Lion King could be so strong.

“How have you been holding up, Tweety?” 

“What do you mean?” She asked, still leading him around his room and showing him her new picture frames and trinkets.

“I mean after what happened with Mama. Are you okay?”

“Well I mean, I knew people died. Sparky died and so did Meemaw and Pop-Pop. I guess when Mama died, I just did the same thing I did when they died. Mama told me that when people die, their memory lives with us forever, so instead of holding on to those memories, we should inc-inta-inceppa-”   


“Incorporate?”

“Incorporate the things we learned from them into our everyday lives so their memory lives forever through us.”

Harley was flabbergasted by his sister’s wisdom, a message Spider-Man was also trying to get across to him. “You’re a smart cookie. You know that, right?”

“Speaking of cookies, can we go get some cookies?” 

“I’ll do you one better. How about we go get some ice cream?”

 

With a cone of Hulk-A-Hunk-A-Burning-Fudge and a cone of Swingin’ Slingin’ Spidey Strawberry Swirl, the two siblings strolled around the streets of Boston as Abby rambled about the multiplication times table and a boy named Evan who she had a crush on but “every girl has a crush on Evan.” She told him about her upcoming choir concert, how she got to play tetherball for the first time, and how her teacher made her line leader for the month. He didn’t mind that his cheeks ached from how much he was smiling because he had her and that’s all that mattered. She was happy and she was here and now was all that mattered.

“What about you, Harles?” she asked as she chomped on her cone.

“What about me?”

“What have you been up to? You haven’t told me anything.”

What was he supposed to tell her? Most of it wasn’t PG or anything he wanted to share with her. “Well I go to a fancy smart person school and I’ve made a lot of special friends there. I live with a boy named Peter but we don’t get along much.”

“Why not?”

“We just don’t agree on a lot of things.”

“Why not?”

Harley sighed. Kids are quite persistent. When he was trying to figure out how to explain it to her, he realized that all of the issues weren’t on Peter. They were on him. His music, his parties, his drinking, his lack of around the apartment work. He did that because he was lazy, reckless, and trying to get on his nerves. How do you tell your little sister that’s what you do? How do you maintain being the guy she looks up to when you’re not worthy of that title? “We’re both a little stubborn about what we believe in. That’s all.”

“Is he your new family?” 

Harley stopped walking. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Sharon is my new mom. Is Peter like your new me?”

Harley squatted down to be at her level. “Abby, no one will ever replace you. Or Mama. I know this is confusing, all of these new people in our lives, but don’t ever think of it as them replacing anyone. They’re their own person. Sharon is Sharon, not your new mom.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Do you like Sharon?” He asked.

“Yeah I do. She’s really nice. She doesn’t cook the same things as Mama. She makes a lot of spaghetti and not that much meat and three. She helps me with my homework and takes me on walks but it’s not the same.”

Harley, realizing this wasn’t the most fun topic for either of them, changed the subject. “What else have you been up to?”

“Oh! Well, Sharon has a computer and she lets me watch YouTube videos on it.”

Harley smiled. “What kind of videos?”

“Well recently I’ve been watching this channel dedicated to Spider-Man. It has all of his fights and flips and tricks. It’s so cool.”

“You’re finally a Spider-Man fan? I thought you’d never get over your obsession of Iron Man.”

“He was my favorite, but that was before I saw Spider-Man do a quadruple backflip off of a skyscraper. Iron Man could never.”

“You know, I actually met Spider-Man in New York.”

Abby’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

Harley chuckled. “Seriously. He is not only the most impressive crime fighter of Queens, but he also is one of the nicest guys I know.”

“You’ve  _ talked  _ to him?”

Harley nodded. “I sure did. He’s a great guy, and I’m sure he’d be glad to hear that he’s your favorite Avenger.”

“But see, that’s the thing. He’s not an Avenger yet. He’s just a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and that’s just his thing. Isn’t that awesome?”

“That  _ is  _ awesome.” He paused, contemplating if he should bring up his thoughts. “Hey Abby?”

“Yeah?”

He felt his confidence falter as he looked at her innocent eyes looking back at him. “How would you feel if you could stay with me in New York? There’s nothing set in stone, but we’ll find a space for you and there’s some really great zoos there and you might even get to meet Spider-Man…”

“I would love to come to New York! Would it be forever?”

Harley hesitated. “I don’t know yet, kiddo. We will just have to see.”

Abby smiled obviously. “Any time I get to spend with you is a good time, Harley. You’re the coolest big brother ever. You’re even cooler than Spider-Man.”

“You mean that?” He teased.

“Of course I do! I mean you can do just as many cool things as Spider-Man, like you’re so strong that you can throw me in the pool and you can do a frontflip on a trampoline and you’re probably the smartest person in the entire world!”

He chuckled. “I’m not the  _ smartest.” _

“Really? What’s twelve times nineteen?”

“Two-hundred twenty-eight.”

She threw her hands up. “See! I don’t even know if that’s right, but it probably is because you’re the smartest person in the entire world.”

He grinned and finished off his ice cream cone. “Let’s head back to Sharon’s. You can show me some of those videos.”

 

Harley stayed until his sister fell asleep, and headed downstairs. Sharon sat at the counter with a cup of tea and a piece of honey toast.

“Harley, you mind coming sitting and having a chat?”

He shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Abby is an amazing kid,” she stated.

“She’s one of the best I know. She’s got the confidence and optimism of a thousand raging suns.”

“Not only that. She is so strong. You both have had a lot of loss in your life.”

He nodded. “After my dad left when we were younger, we had to learn to lose. Meemaw and Pop-Pop weren’t around long for Abby’s life, mostly because Mama had Abby pretty late in life. They practically lived with us from how often they came over and supported us, whether it be coming to my science fairs or just visiting to bake some Moon Pies. Abby was always the stronger one. She kept me grounded.”

“How are you doing without her?”

Harley smiled sadly. “Not as well as I would with her. Abby finds a way to bring the best out of people. She points out the good even in the bad. It’s like nothing can drag her down because she will just come back better and stronger.”

“I think you’re absolutely right.”

“I wanted to say thank you. I know you didn’t choose to be Abby’s caregiver, but I think there must be some reason why she ended up with you. She’s happy and that makes me happy. So thank you, for being something for her.”

“I will never be Macy Keener. Or you, Harley. But I know I can just try to be what she needs right now, and that’s someone to just be there to guide her through life without her mother. I will never try to replace her. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“You can come by whenever you want. Know that you’re always welcome here.”

“I appreciate that, Sharon. Thank you.”

She got up and put a few pieces of biscotti into a bag. “Take these for the ride back.”

“Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me, Harley. It’s the least I can do.”

“Have a good night now, you hear?” 

She nodded. “I will. And I will make sure Abby knows that you’ll come by again soon.”

“I’ll make sure I will.”

 

As Harley stared at the starless sky through the window of the metro, he thought of all the things he could do if he had custody of Abby. They could take walks in Central Park and climb the Statue of Liberty and maybe one day if he earned enough money, he could take her to see a Broadway show. He thought of having her around the house to finally help decorate the apartment well and to bake bread with and to have movie nights on Fridays. He wanted to be there to see her graduate elementary school and to help her study for tests and talk her through her middle school love life. Even if he went to college, he would go somewhere close so he could find time to still be with her. He could sit with her while he worked and she could do her homework at one desk while he tinkered. He could hold on to all of her firsts and new experiences because Mama couldn’t anymore.

But most of all, he wanted to be the guy that Abby remembered him to be. He was going to be that big brother that she looked up to. If that’s what it took to get her back in his life, then that’s what he would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you listened to that song that Zendaya did for euphoria? "all for us" is literally a god tier song. It takes more risks than I've seen a lot of modern songs make and it's absolutely cinematic. I totally recommend you check it out.
> 
> If you want to chat with me or starry, our Tumblrs are official-impravidus and starrykitty013 :)
> 
> please someone explain how I add links to a note


	10. I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

Though he would never admit it, Harley was worried about Peter. He had been withdrawn and quiet which until now, Harley thought was virtually impossible for the optimistic teen. He didn’t tell him to vacuum; he just did it in silence. Then, he had disappeared for an hour just to come back to isolate himself in his room silently. Sure, Harley had been waiting for a day of peace, but it wasn’t normal. This wasn’t Peter. Realizing this was the first step to being the bigger person, he approached the brooding teen. 

“What’s up with you? You’re being even more of a buzzkill than usual, today,” he said with humor lacing his tone to mask his concern. Peter didn’t respond and continued doing his work at his desk so Harley came over and poked him. Peter swatted his hand away.

“Fuck off. I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh? What could’ve bothered sunshine child Peter Parker?” Harley asked, cringing at the sarcasm which teetered on rude rather than playful.

Peter looked at his work with vacant eyes. “What do you even care? I can’t be sad? You said that I’m not owning up to my grief before. So why are you harping on them now that I _am_.” Peter said and looked at Harley. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Harley felt like someone punched him in the gut. 

“Yeah… but like maybe you can talk about it?” Harley asked awkwardly ending on a high note. Peter was silent for a while, and Harley didn’t think he’d answer.

“It’s the anniversary of his death today.”

Harley’s smirk dropped. _Oh_. As much as he wanted to keep up the banter, he knew what that was like, and he wasn’t going to be the one to open up that can of worms. “How old were you?”

“I was fourteen.”

“Oh.” There was a long silence. Harley knew loss, but he didn’t know it like that. Sure, his dad had abandoned him when he was young, but it’s not the same as dying. “Were you guys close?”

“Yeah.” Peters voice cracked and Harley noticed that his nose was red and eyes were rimmed with the same color. He wasn’t crying. Not yet. 

“Look, you said you lost both your parents?” Peter sniffled and looked at him confused.

“Yeah, but that was when I was six. How does that have anything to do with my uncle?” Peter asked. _What the fuck?_ How could Peter be so happy all the time when he had lost so much?

“Well if it was just your uncle…”

“I guess southerners aren’t real close with their non-immediate family.” Peter grumbled. 

“I’ll have you know, I went to all of one family reunions.” Harley said. It was shit and that’s why he never went again. But he didn’t say that.

“Whatever. Fuck off, it’s not like you even care.” 

“Then why am I in here?”

“I don’t know. To piss me off?” He went back to doing his sad math.

“Nope,” he said, picking Peter up from his seat. The other boy was light so it wasn’t an issue for Harley, but Peter made a surprised squeak that was indubitably cute. 

Peter wiggled in his arms. “Put me down!” 

“Nu-uh, we’re gonna do something that is not as depressing as trading origin stories.” Harley responded matter-of-fact. Peter stiffened a little as he dumped him on the couch. “What movie?”

“What?” Peter asked, confused.

“What movie do you wanna watch?” 

“Oh uhm… Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back.”

“Star Trek is better.” Harley said.

Peter wrinkled his nose. “Wow you really _are_ the worst.” Peter paused as he rummaged through the DVDs. “Let’s just watch Jurassic World.”

“Okay, Chris Pratt being a hot piece of ass training raptors? I can get behind that.” Harley said and popped the DVD in. 

He left Peter’s sightline only to dump a mountain of fluffy blankets from both their rooms and coming back five minutes later with steaming mugs of hot cocoa with whipped cream and sprinkles. Peter was already nestling inside the blankets making a little burrow for himself.

“That kid looks exactly like you," Peter mumbled.

"He looks nothing like me! What are you talkin' about?"

"You're kidding, right? He's like the carbon copy younger version of you!"

Harley shook his head. "I don't see it." He sipped his hot chocolate. "Plus, you've never seen me as a kid."

"You probably looked just like that."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"I'm right and you know it!" Peter said in sing-song.

“That reminds me, has anyone ever told you, you look kinda like Tom Holland?” Peter scoffed.

“As if. I don’t have a frog in my mouth.” 

“You kinda do, that’s why I said it.” Peter threw a pillow at him. “Just imagine Peter Parker dancing to Umbrella by Rihanna. I’d pay to see that.”

“Are you saying I can’t dance? I’ll have you know that I can do a backflip.”

“Being able to do a backflip doesn’t equate to being able to dance.”

“Fine. We are going to play Just Dance. Best score…” he trailed off.

“Best score, what?”

“Best score has to clean the kitchen.”

Harley hesitated, but put his hand out for him to shake. “Deal.”

So there they were, Wiimotes and umbrellas in their hands, having a dance battle with unimpressive stakes, but competitiveness coursing through their veins. Unsurprisingly, Peter’s athleticism pushed him the extra mile to get a perfect 5 star score, unphased by the arduous exercise. Harley on the other hand was out of breath, sweaty, and sore just from one song.

“Okay, Parker. You won fair and square. I’ll do the kitchen.”

Peter, now feeling guilty, softened. “You helped me out a lot tonight. We can… do it together?”

Harley looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Really? But you won.”

“Well I have to show you the right way to do it. I can’t just trust you’ll actually clean it correctly.”

“Hey! I clean the kitchen every time I bake.”

“No, you clean your dishes everytime you bake. There’s always flour and a batter on the counters.”

Harley rolled his eyes playfully. “Oh wonderful. I’ll learn how to clean from the neat freak master himself.”

“These are valuable life lessons, Keener. Maybe one day, if you somehow manage to get someone to actually live with you on their own free will, you’ll know how to do your part. Now come on, there’s a kitchen needing to be cleaned.”

It had just started with simple things like what to use the Clorox wipes on and what to use a damp cloth, how to rinse dishes before you put them into the dishwasher, and the most efficient way to fill the dishwasher to maximize the load. But, somewhere along the way, they started spritzing each other with the waterbottles and making a wet mess in the freshly cleaned kitchen. It was nice. They were just laughing and not caring about the consequences of their fun. It was mindless, it was simple. They were just two guys having a great time. Peter wasn’t thinking about his Uncle Ben, just the here and now. For once, he was starting to actually enjoy being with Harley, and he liked that. He liked that a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to chat with us, our Tumblrs are official-impravidus and starrykitty013 :)


	11. Throw It Away, Forget Yesterday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting on a Saturday again because I have a choir function tomorrow :)

The next morning, Peter was hoping to start a new leaf with Harley. He had seen that there was something behind his asshole exterior. He actually believed that he could change. 

He was wrong.

When he approached Harley who was scrambling some eggs and asked, “whatcha cookin’?” he wasn’t expecting Harley to roll his eyes.

“Don’t expect me to make you some. You’re like a black hole for food and I’d be using up like eight eggs to satisfy your hunger.” Dejectected, Peter just nodded and grabbed two bottles of Pediasure from the fridge and headed back to his bedroom when he was interrupted with a “hey, Peter?” He almost felt hope that what Harley would say would mean something, but instead got a rude awakening as Harley said, “let’s just forget last night ever happened, okay? It didn’t mean anything.”

 _It didn’t mean anything._ Ouch. Nodding, he plastered his usual smile to hide his disappointment. “Of course not. I was just being a pussy about something that happened years ago.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” And with that, he turned back to his frying pan, unable to see Peter’s face drop.

“I have to head to work, so clean up the kitchen after you’re done.”

“You know I won’t.”

“I know.”

After Peter had left, Harley did clean the kitchen, knowing that he had to pick up his slack around the apartment and guilty for pushing him away once again. He figured it would be another day of sketching and homework when he heard a knock at the door.

Probably the last person he expected to be in the dingy apartment complex in Queens was there. Tony Stark.

“Tony! Why are you in Queens? Or here?”

Giving himself permission to enter the apartment, he set his coat on the couch and took a look around the main living area. “I came to get you, of course.”

“Right. I didn’t tell you I was in town.”

“In town? In town would imply you’re visiting. I had to find out that you were in New York by receiving a belated funeral invitation to Macy Keener’s funeral and tracking your whereabouts myself.”

“Well it must have been a very belated invitation, because I’ve been in New York since June.” 

Tony nodded, picking up a trinket on the table and inspecting it. “Well I’m a busy busy man. Been out of town for a couple months. Iron Man business.”

“That sounds very important.”

Tony looked to him, setting the trinket down. “Yes, it was.” He took another look around the apartment. “Why does all of this decor look so familiar?”

Harley furrowed his eyebrows, taking a look around the apartment. It shouldn’t be familiar. Peter did his best to balance out the furnishing between the two of them, but Tennessee chic and whatever HGTV TV show all of his furniture came from didn’t really match, so Peter mostly adorned the walls and kitchen with Harley’s things and decorated the rest with his own, probably to match the way his old apartment was. Nostalgia and all. “Not sure. This is mostly my roommate’s stuff.”

“Well, that is besides the point. I want you to come with me to the Tower today.”

His eyes widened. “The Stark Tower? In New York?”

“That’s the one.”

Harley, now exuberant with anticipation, had many questions. “Do you want me to bring anything? I’ve got blueprints and sketchbooks and…”

“Bring whatever you want to work on in my state of the art lab. How about that?”

Almost glowing in excitement, Harley nodded and rushed to his room, racking his brain on what he wanted to bring. Clutching onto his latest sketchbook, he ran back out, almost afraid that Tony wouldn’t be there when he came out. “So how long is the drive?”

“Drive? We’re taking the suit.”

His mouth agape, he asked, “really?”

Tony laughed at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. The limo is outside. It’s just forty five minutes. We can catch up on our way there.”

 

Harley felt like a fish out of water in such a luxurious vehicle. The driver was hidden behind the wall, and there was a bottle of cold water in the cup holder.

“So, were you planning to ever tell me you were in New York?”

Harley looked to the man, unsure of how to respond. “I’ve had a lot on my mind. You know, being orphaned and all.”

Tony softened, realizing he was being a little harsh on the teen. “You’re right. You know, you could’ve come to me. I would’ve…”

“I know you would’ve done something like given me a place to stay or helped with my finances, but really, I’m fine.”

“Are you? Because from what I can tell by your file, you are jobless, despite going to a STEM school and living in an apartment in one of the most expensive real estate states in America.” Harley nodded. He was right. “So, I won’t treat you like a charity case, but I could use some extra hands around the lab. It would be a good salary and could help with some of those expenses.”

“In the lab? With you? As a job?”

Tony nodded. “It would start off slow, so you can get used to the environment, but I’ve seen what you can do, and I’ve been keeping up with your passion projects, and I think they can do a lot of good if executed correctly. So?”

“Yes. Yes! I would love that. That would be amazing.”

“You’ll stay at the Tower on select weekends, but will come after school during the week. Homework is always priority, so you’ll have your own space to complete that before you ever do work with me. I’m guessing you don’t have a car?” Harley nodded. “Yeah, I figured so. I’ll get you a car.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“You’re from Tennessee. You like Ford F-150s?”

“Uh yeah I do…”

“Simple. That’s only like 30,000 dollars. Happy belated birthday.”

The way that money came so simply to Tony baffled Harley. He was born in buttfuck nowhere Tennessee, where every person lived in the same three outfits and had to save all their earnings if they wanted to not be evicted. He was a dumpster diver for his experiments, and that was normal. The idiom “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” was the epitome of his life. He held on to every little thing for whatever sentimental or numerical value it had. Tony on the other hand threw away money like it was nothing because to him, it _was_ nothing. “Really, Tony, I can’t accept that. I’ll just take the bus. Really.”

“Alright, fine. Your loss.”

 

Harley was having a field day in the lab. He had never had access to high tech equipment that could achieve the things he had imagined. For years, he had been coming up with different dreams, like prosthesis with faster response time. Tony was quite interested in this and asked him why this intrigued him. “Well we can’t replicate a synapse, but we can definitely get close to it with a deep learning AI, maybe even a connection to the cerebrum, if that’s possible to integrate into a mechanical prosthesis. I mean, Bucky Barnes got it with his arm. Why not start incorporating it into everyday use?”

“Do you think you could use this research in things like my Iron Man suit?”

Harley nodded, not even looking up from his sketchbook. “Of course you could. AI can do a lot, like give vitals and move your arms when you do, but the movement will inevitably be delayed, even by a millisecond, because it moves when you do. If it can move in time with your thought process while also understanding your surroundings without you even monitoring your peripherals, it can become twice as effective in combat.”

Tony was impressed. He knew Harley was intelligent, but he was exceptional now that his intellect has matured and grown over the years. “I like your thinking. How about we try out some prototypes?”

 

Later that night, back in Queens, Spider-Man was perched atop a building, scouring over the crowds of people to identify any crimes that Karen wouldn’t have picked up. He froze in his spot when he heard a familiar mechanical woosh and clank land behind him.

“Mr. Stark?” He questioned. The billionaire exited his suit, holding out his arms as if to say “it’s me.” “What are you doing here? Did I do something wrong?” _Did you find out about my situation?_

“Nothing’s wrong, kid. I just haven’t checked in a while. You didn’t notice?”

“No no, of course I noticed, but I figured it was a “you are too busy for me, I’m a kid” thing again.”

Tony shook his head, straightening out his wrinkled shirt. “I’m over that. You’ve proven yourself and what-not. Why would I have given you that new suit if I didn’t trust you?”

Peter smiled, relieved that he wasn’t in any trouble. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, kid. I do apologize though for not getting in touch sooner. I was kidnapped for the last four months.”

Peter’s went wide. “You were _what_? How was this not all over the news?”

“Pepper is really good with PR. But it’s fine. I was tortured a bit, but no information got spilled, no weapons of mass destruction were made, just a ridiculously long search considering the technology Stark Industries has.”

“I can’t believe you were gone and I didn’t even know.”

“You’ve got a life outside of me, Pete. Don’t worry about it. So how are you? Pepper hasn’t let me do a lot of going outside since I got back, so I’m in the dark about everything I’ve missed. Aunt hottie still massacring recipes?"

Peter paused. "Yup. She is."

“That’s good. And how about you? Still friends with Ted?”

“Ned.”

“That’s right. From the status reports from Karen, it seems you’ve been doing pretty well. We do have to talk about the hit to the high-cervical nerves.”

Peter froze. Right. “The paralysis only lasted the weekend…”

“You were paralyzed?!” he exclaimed.

“You didn’t know?” he squeaked out.

“Well now I do.” He pinched the bridge of his nose before turning back to the teen. “What did you tell Aunt May?”

“I said it was a twisted ankle.”

“And she believed you?” Peter nodded, embarrassed by the stupidity of the excuse. “We’ll address your acting abilities later. Since it’s been a couple months, how about you come back to the tower for some coding updates and maintenance repair?”

Peter smiled behind the mask. “That would be awesome.”

 

So there Peter was, at the Stark Tower for the first time since Aunt May passed away. It felt different. It used to be this exuberant, jaw-dropping experience filled with wide-eyed wonder and getting scolded at for wandering. Now, he just followed Tony to where he told him to in silence. He could tell that Tony was picking up on the not so subtle difference in his demeanor.

“What’s up with you kid?”

Peter looked up from the spot on the floor he had been trailing. “I’m just a little shaken up knowing that you were kidnapped for months without me knowing.”

The goateed man sighed. “That’s not your fault kid. Pepper didn’t want you knowing because she knew you would want to throw yourself into danger and get yourself killed trying to find me. And _that_ would _not_ be another burden on my conscience.”

Peter smiled softly. “Okay. You know I worry, Mr. Stark.”

“Hey, and enough of that Mr. Stark bullshit. It’s been what? Four years since I picked up your pajama wearing ass and gave you that upgrade. It’s Tony.”

“Sorry to break it to you, Mr. Stark, but every part of my being cannot handle calling you by your first name. It not only feels completely wrong, but I also have a deeply rooted fear of disrespecting authority figures.”

Tony stared at the young teen with bewilderment. “Whatever you say…” Peter cut him off by turning around and slipping his mask over his face again upon hearing approaching footsteps. He scurried up the wall and flattened himself against the ceiling.

“Hey Tony. I’ve got the basic framework for the prototype set. Do you want to come check it out?” _Why was that voice so familiar?_

“Yeah, I’ll be right there. I just have to take care of something real quick.” As he heard the footsteps disappear into the distance, Peter released his sticky grip from the ceiling. “What was that for?”

“I panicked.”

 

The update went as usual. Peter wore his suit while it was hooked up to FRIDAY for touch-ups and additions while he t-posed in the magic repair machine that mended all the wear and tear. He told FRIDAY to blast his “sad boi hours” playlist over the speakers, and he had his daily dose of wallowing in grief, mourning, and overall sadness. It wasn’t healthy, but it’s how he decompressed. 

Tony entered, interrupting Peter’s listen of My Chemical Romance’s “Cancer” with a quick, “FRIDAY please turn down the music.”

Peter sat up and quickly wiped his tears. “What do you need, Mr. Stark?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to check how the repairs are going. Check in with you.”

Peter looked to him quickly to acknowledge him, but not long enough for him to notice his puffy eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Kid, there are cameras in this room. I saw you aren’t doing well.”

Peter took a sharp breath in. _Right._ “It’s just one of those days. Me and my roommate we… stuff happened and…”

“Roommate? I thought you lived with your Aunt May?”

“Right. Well he helps us with rent. Because of our financial struggles. He’s renting out the extra room.”

“Okay. And what about this roommate?”

Peter contemplated on how much he should tell him. “We had a moment last night. Well, a couple of moments. And I actually thought he… I thought we were okay. But this morning he just confirmed we aren’t. And things aren’t okay.”

“You’re going to have to be a little less cryptic.”

Peter fiddled with his fingers. “We don’t get along much, but I thought we were actually going to start to get along. But we aren’t. And I don’t know I’m just… disappointed I guess? And I shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t expect more from a big-headed prick like him but I guess I just… I hoped there was more to him than he shows.”

Tony stared at the teen, unsure of what to tell him. Genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist definitely didn’t entail teenage troubles advice. “I guess you just have to try and mend things on your own end. If he has expressed his issues with him, prove him wrong. Make yourself the best you you can be. And if you’re being the best you you can be, then _he’s_ in the wrong.”

Peter nodded, trying to wrap his head around the concept. “So even if he’s being a jerk, I should still be a good person? Because it would show that he can’t drag me down with him? And that would prove I’m like worthy?”

The older man patted him on the back. “Something like that.” The machine dinged, notifying them that the update was finished. “You should get home. You need some rest.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“That’s my boy.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony is finally in the story!! There won't be too much Tony, but he will make a return.
> 
> As per usual, if you want to chat, our Tumblrs are official-impravidus and starrykitty013 :)
> 
> Also, I did a cover of the song that plays at the end of Endgame and I just wanted to share it here as well. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NX5WAQ0Y8TI


	12. Take My Drunk Ass Home

To say the least, Peter was tired. He had a physics test on projectile motions, derivatives in calculus, and a presentation on pesticides in chemistry. He had to pick up an extra shift at Luigi’s with little projects that would usually take his mind off of whatever his life threw at him, but instead felt tedious and pointless. He had a long night of patrol, concepts of bioaccumulation and biomagnification still bouncing around his mind as he punched out robbers committing petty theft and helped drunk women walk home safely. So, obviously, all he wanted to do when he came home was to lay down in his fairly uncomfortable bed and get a reasonable amount of sleep. Instead he was greeted with his roommate, shirtless and shoeless with only a pair of cargo pants and bucket hat on, holding a very fresh, still wiggling fish.

“Harley, what the hell are you doing?”

He smiled, his cheeks tinged pink, and hiccuped. “I was out noodlin’ and grabbed me a big ol’ fish.” Peter, taking the fish and putting it in the sink, ran the tap and led Harley to his bedroom, who hummed in response. “We should go noodlin’ together someday, Peter, because you’re a noodle and then you’d be a noodle goin’ noodlin’.”

“Mhm. We should.” Peter began to pull a shirt over his torso when he noticed it was extremely sticky. “Ew what the fuck? Why are you so sticky?”

“The East River is salt water.”

“You went to the East River?! There are  _ eels  _ in the East River.”

Harley nodded. “But I grabbed a catfish.”

“You grabbed a catfish,” Peter repeated, earning another nod from Harley. “You know what? You take these,” he handed him a t-shirt and boxers, “and you go take a shower.”

“Okay,” he complied, meandering to the bathroom.

Peter really didn’t want to be Harley’s babysitter, but despite the age difference, he seemed to be the more mature of the two. He could easily let Harley wake up sticky, smelling of fish and river, with an enormous headache, but something in him couldn’t just do that. He was feeling benevolent, despite his exhaustion. He was being the best him he could be.

Going to the kitchen, he rummaged through the drawers trying to find the normal person Advil to leave on Harley’s bedside table when he suddenly felt Harley running his fingers through his curly locks, more gently than the smaller boy could have expected his intoxicated mind could manage. “You’re so pretty, Peter. Pretty pretty Peter Parker.” Blushing profusely, Peter pulled away and went to the fridge to get him a glass of water, but he felt Harley press against his body against his own from behind, snaking his arms around his waist and resting his head on his shoulder. “What are you doing, darlin’?” Peter was unfamiliar with such a sweet use of the term from him. He tended to use “darlin’” in a condescending way, but now it just sounded so tender and whole-hearted.

“You need some water,” Peter said, pulling from Harley’s grasp.

“Why?” Harley questioned.

“You’re dehydrated from the alcohol. Now drink up.”

Harley nodded silently and chugged the glass of water. Before Peter could ask him any questions, he stated “I have to pee” and wandered into the bathroom.

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Whatever little goblin in his heart that’s pounding against his chest, longing for some sort of reciprocation of feelings from Harley was irrational, and he knew that. Harley wasn’t a man of sap or love. He was a self-centered, egotistical, big-headed prick. But damn is that big head attractive.

Harley broke Peter from his trance, tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie. “I’m hungry.”

“What do you want?” Harley put his finger to his chin to think but just zoned off for longer than he probably realized. “Harley?”

“Do we have any ice cream?”

Peter moved the dazed teen to sit at the counter while he scoured the freezer. With luck, he found a half eaten pint of Hulk-A-Hunk-A-Burning-Fudge. “Here you go.” Harley began to devour the pint, letting out moans of delight from the taste which Peter was oh too familiar with. “Well you enjoy that. I’m sure you can find your way back to your room. Or fuck it, sleep on the counter. I don’t care.”

“You know me and Abby used to eat this ice cream all the time. She insisted on it even though I always thought it was too rich. I dunno. I guess I became fond of it after eating it so often with her. My favorite is Swingin’ Slingin’ Spidey Strawberry Swirl though. She always said strawberry wasn’t a real ice cream flavor.” Suddenly, Harley stopped, his lip beginning to pucker and quiver, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Jesus, what is it, Harley?”

Harley, slurred yet still on key, began to serenade Peter with Rascall Flatts. “What hurts the most was being so close, and havin' so much to say, and watchin' you walk away, and never knowin' what could've been, and not seein' that lovin' you is what I was trying to do.”

“Well we don’t have time to unpack all of that…”

“Peter?”

“Do you ever regret-” Harley then stopped his spooning of ice cream and turned over to vomit all over the other boy and himself. 

“Yeah, I regret not ignoring you as soon as I walked in.” Peter muttered as he sighed and looked down. He just wanted to sleep. 

“I killed her.” 

Peter froze. Turning to look at the heavily inebriated teen, he noticed how empty he looked. There was no snark, there was no playful teasing laced in his tone, he was just empty. “What are you talking about?”

“I killed Mama. It was my fault she died.”

Peter put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

Harley pulled away from his grasp. “But it is my fault! If I had gone to the car to get my wallet instead of saving our spot in line, she would be here right now. If I had been the one to go out then maybe it would be me instead. If I had been the one to go out then maybe she wouldn’t have had to have…”

Peter turned the taller boy to face him. “You can’t blame yourself. You can’t think of the what ifs because they’ll eat you alive.”

“Well, they should! It was  _ my  _ wallet. It should’ve been  _ me.  _ I should be the one dead, and not her!”

“You don’t deserve to die, Harley.”

“But that’s the thing. I do. I asked her to get my wallet because I was telling the staff about her birthday so they’d sing for her. If I had just called ahead, then she woudn’t have had to go get my wallet, and she wouldn’t have gotten mugged, and she wouldn’t have died. And today I just… I saw someone with that car and everything came rushin’ back to me and all of a sudden I wasn’t me, I was him. The guy who killed his mom. And that’s why when I become that guy again, I just… I have to get away as much as I can, because drunk is better than bein’ him.”

It pained Peter to see Harley blame himself because he too had been on the same side of that coin. For years he blamed himself for Ben’s death. For not using his powers to save him or being the one shot instead. He blamed himself for getting May in that car crash since she was picking him up from school. If he had just taken the Metro or the bus then maybe she wouldn’t have...

“Come on.” he said, shaking his head of the memories that he’d cry himself to sleep over later. “Let’s go change.”

Peter mostly wanted to get rid of Harley so that he too could change out of his soiled outfit, but he also needed to know that Harley got to bed safe and clean. He hated to admit it, but his recklessness was concerning, and he didn’t want to see him like this. 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Harley said, after managing to pull off his t-shirt.

Peter shook his head, trying to lead the inebriated teen to his bed. “What for?”

“For being a big pain in the tush.” He had a lopsided frown. “I mean look what I did! You’re a big mess now. Lemme help.” Before Peter could attest, Harley was unzipping his hoodie, making it fall to the floor. Harley, now dangerously close to Peter, stared into his chocolate brown eyes, his hand still on his chest. Their eyes flickered at the other’s lips, faces inching closer.

_ No!  _

Peter pulled away, chuckling awkwardly. “You need to go to bed, Harley. You’re drunk. You do stupid things when you’re drunk.”  _ Like try to kiss me.  _ “Good night.”

“Good night, Peter.”

 

Peter didn’t get much sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to chat, our Tumblrs are official-impravidus and starrykitty013 :)
> 
> Despite the whole Spider-Man Sony and Disney debacle, we as writers that are fans of MCU of Spider-Man who enjoy putting out content and taking in content want to urge you as fans to keep making your content. It's fanon for a reason. Fanon means that you have the wheel. It doesn't matter that he's not part of the universe. It doesn't matter that Tony is dead or that he was just framed for murder by his fourth father/mentor figure. You make the rules, so go and do it! Don't be afraid to make content just because they aren't canon because when your readers don't all care about that.
> 
> Keep writing, keep reading, and keep being awesome, y'all.
> 
> ~impravidus
> 
> P.S. I totally had inspirations for that one line at the end "you do stupid things when you're drunk, like try to kiss me" from that line from Waitress "I do stupid things when I drink, like sleep with my husband." Just a little Easter egg :)


	13. One of Us

The first thing that Tony found out was that Peter had lied to him about May. She was neither okay nor alive. This fact opened many other unanswered questions. Where was he living now? Who is this roommate he had been complaining about? Is he okay?

Tony had wondered why he wasn’t invited to the funeral, but then he found out that there wasn’t one to begin with, and he understood why. Of course he did. That would be Peter’s fourth funeral in the seventeen years he had lived on this earth at least, except this time, he’d be going through it alone. _Alone_. God, the kid was alone for five months. 

Another question Tony had was if the kid had anyone. Who else did he keep this secret from? No. How many secrets was he keeping?

He obviously couldn’t be living on his own. He was seventeen, not a legal adult yet. So, how was he living in an apartment in Queens, New York with a roommate? Was this roommate safe? From what he could tell, he was nothing but trouble. Peter described him to be reckless, obnoxious, and indulgent in frivolous pleasures. Young Tony Stark basically. He couldn’t imagine Peter Parker being involved with someone anywhere similar to Tony Stark 2001, let alone live with them. How was he managing? How was he coping while putting up with this guy? Tony had so many questions, but he knew all he could do was let the kid’s big mouth give him answers when he was ready.

Lucky for Tony, that was quite soon.

“And he shows up wasted, with a _live fish_ and he starts spilling these super personal anecdotes about his life and I realized we actually have things in common and he blames himself for his mom’s death the same way I blame myself for Uncle Ben and Aunt May and it’s like no wonder he’s so mad and closed off all the time because that trauma weighs you down! And like I know how much it rips apart your spirit but he doesn’t have an outlet like I do through Spider-Man. Spider-Man at least reminds me that I have worth and that I save more people than I fail, but he doesn’t. So he just distracts himself from the pain with booze and parties and all of that jazz and I thought he was doing it just to spite me but I realize it’s a lot of things because he told me that he was addicted and I didn’t get it because I’m not an alcoholic, no offense because like yeah, but I mean, I _am_ addicted to something. I’m addicted to being Spider-Man. I’m addicted to the feeling of saving people, the adrenaline rush of beating up bad guys, and knowing that when I get hurt it’s because I was doing something good, not just aimlessly sitting in my room hurting myself on purpose.” Peter cut himself off.

“Do you want to hurt yourself, Peter?”

“No. No! Of course I don’t. I don’t want to hurt myself. But if I was any other person with dead parents and dead parents _again,_ I probably wouldn’t be stable. But I just… I choose to be happy so that I’m not sad.”

“That’s not how happiness works.”

“Why can’t it? Why can’t I just chose to be happy and actually be happy? It works enough. It’s enough to get through my day without…”

“Without what?”

“Without realizing that I’m a kid with dead parents and another set of dead parents.” Peter let his words sink in, his whole demeanor crumbling. “I’m a kid with two sets of dead parents.”

“Pete…”

“No.” He took a shaky breath, and closed his eyes for a second. Turning back to Tony, now smiling a sad smile, he gave him a weak thumbs up. “All good.”

“Peter, that’s not healthy.”

“Not healthy is working, and that’s all that matters.”

“Peter.” He stepped closer to the teen. “I’m not going to make you do anything. I’m not going to take away Spider-Man if you’re not doing well. Being not okay is okay. You’ve been doing everything efficiently and safely as Spider-Man and there hasn’t been an influx in your injuries, so I know you’re not using it at some twisted form of self harm. I know it makes you happy and you help people. So I’m saying now, I won’t take away Spider-Man _unless_ you prove to me you need me to. What I‘m saying, is that you need to own up to your well-being. You need to seek help and that help is not from me. You need to figure out your grief in a healthy way, and you need to figure things out with your roommate. Stand up for yourself and insist that you won’t let him use you. You need to be a better you, and you can’t be a better you when you have someone dragging you down.”

Peter took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll make an effort to address my mental health, but it’s not like I can afford actual therapy…”

“I’ll pay for your therapy,” Tony interrupted.

“Mr. Stark…”

“No. Nope. Nada. Therapy sessions are $75 a session. That’s nothing. Let me help you, Peter.”

Peter just nodded. “Okay. I’ll start therapy and I’ll try to be better.”

“Don’t just try. Be.”

 

The next day, Peter had returned back to Queens for his shift at Luigi’s and Harley had arrived at the Stark Tower. He tinkered at his passion project. The comfortable silence was interrupted when Tony turned to him and asked, “what’s with the face?”

“What face?” He responded, unaware he even was.

“The face you’re making right now. I didn’t even know your face muscles could do that.”

Harley grumbled. “It’s my roommate. He’s completely insufferable.”

“Oh, trouble in paradise.”

He scoffed. “It was never paradise to begin with.”

“So what’s wrong with him that could bother the great Harley Keener?”

“Well, he’s a hypocritical control freak who is incessant at bossing me around. He gets mad at me for not doing the dishes even though I _do,_ I just only do it when it builds up. And this morning he actually woke me up at 4AM stumbling in from doing God knows what. I hear him climb through the fire escape every morning and he gets mad at _me_ for doing basically the same thing. Plus he’s obviously got some issues and lets it out on me because I can tell he’s in an abusive relationship additionally to being an orphan, except he doesn’t even act like he’s hurting. He’s just sunshine rainbows because God forbid anything phases perfect Peter Parker.”

Tony froze. “Peter Parker?”

Harley didn’t even look up from his prosthesis. “Yeah, Peter Parker. That’s his name. God, just my luck, right? I get paired with this guy who in theory should click with me perfectly, but he just _had_ to be him. Sorry for ranting, Tony. I’ve got no one else to talk to about this.”

“Well, I uh I think you should evaluate where he’s coming from too. Maybe there’s a reason behind why he does these things. It can’t always be black and white.”

Harley nodded. “I guess you’re right. Besides, I’ve got bigger fish to fry than Peter Parker. I’m having my custody meeting tomorrow.”

“You should get going then. Need to be well rested to make a good impression.”

Harley set down his tools and stretched out his back. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Oh and Harley?”

He turned around from the doorway. “Yeah?”

“We’re going to need to talk about your drinking habits.”

 

Tony had pushed aside his designs for Iron Man Armor Model Mk LXII, and began typing down all of the information he knew.

Peter described Harley to be an obnoxious, rule-breaking, alcoholic party animal. The Harley he knew was down-to-earth, maybe a bit sarcastic and snarky, but definitely level-headed and intelligent. Definitely too intelligent to do the things Peter depicted him doing.

The Peter that Harley described was controlling and bossy, a dictator in the apartment. The Peter that he knew was the most timid, doormat of a nervous wreck. 

How were these the same people he knew?

Tony knew he had to get to the bottom of this, and especially knew that he wouldn’t let his two star pupils self-destruct in their feud, and he would ensure that they find their way out with or without his help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to chat, our Tumblrs are StarryKitty013 and official-impravidus :)
> 
> Drink some water! Stay hydrated y'all. 'Tis very important.


	14. It's Fine 'Til Someone Gets Hurt

“She’s my sister.” 

“I’m sorry Mr. Keener but we-“

“I’m eighteen. I should be able to take care of her myself.” Harley crossed his arms across his chest as he argued with the social worker.

“You would have to talk it over with your roommate first to gain-“

“My  _ roommate _ wouldn’t give a _ shit _ if she was with me or not!” He snapped.

“I imagine Mr. Parker would like to made aware of this situation if we were to allow you to gain custody,” the social worker explained calmly, “but it isn’t in her best interest. You only have two month’s worth of a steady income, you are about to go to college which comes with its own time commitment, and you haven’t exemplified being a fit guardian. Until we see some stability on your end, Mr. Keener, I cannot allow you to keep this child.”

“I’m her brother!”

“We are aware.” 

Harley softened, realizing that this wasn’t the way to prove himself to the people he was trying to gain the approval and trust of. “I’m sorry. It’s just, she’s all I have left.”

“We know, Mr. Keener. But if she truly means this much to you, you don’t just have to prove to us that you’re a capable guardian, you need to prove it to yourself. Have a good day. We are done here.”

 

When Harley arrived home, he wanted alone time. He wanted time to sulk and to yell and throw things against the wall. The last thing he wanted was another confrontation with Peter. Instead, that’s what he got.

“Where have you been?” Peter leaned against the wall as he so  _ fondly  _ remembered Aunt May doing when he would come home from patrol when she didn’t know about his webbed friend. 

Harley scoffed. “It’s none of your business.”

“That might not be my business, but what is is this apartment which you made no effort in cleaning after your last whatever the hell it is you do before disappearing for the weekend, leaving me to clean it myself.”

The taller boy rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault that you’re a control freak who needs the house to “prim and proper” at all times.”

“It’s not because of that!” Peter had to refrain from completely blowing up out of frustration.

“Then what is it?”

Peter, his face red as a beet, said meekly, “it was the smell.”

“Oh poor Princess Peter. Can’t handle the smell of empty beer bottles in his pristine castle,” Harley snarled. “Flowers not enough for you? Maybe you should buy more.”

Peter, knowing he can’t just admit to his heightened sense of smell, the headache still pounding at his temples from the overwhelming scent still soaked into the hardwood, stood straighter. “You can’t just go and leave our apartment a wreck and leave me to clean it like your maid while you go wildin’ doing whatever you do.”

“Wildin’? What the fuck even  _ is _ that?” 

“It’s you going out having fun with no regard to rules or other people!”

“I wasn’t having fun,” Harley said, his voice softer and slightly pained, which Peter didn’t notice.

“It’s like you don’t care about anything but yourself. Personal gain and instant gratification. Is that all you care about?”

“Well at least I care about  _ something _ !” He snapped. He stepped closer to Peter to tower over him. “If anything, it’s  _ you _ who doesn’t care about anything. You have this facade of positivity and “everything works out in the end” attitude but you just use it as a defense mechanism to ignore the real issues of the world.”

“Well I don’t drown away my problems with parties, sex, and vodka. You’re gone for hours upon end fucking up your own life as you stumble home at 4AM just for me to have to clean up your drunken vomit and broken bottles.”

“Don’t pull that bullshit with me, Parker. I know for a  _ fact  _ that you come home just as late as I do, but you just sneak through the fire escape outside of your bedroom. Stop acting all high and mighty when you’re just like me.”

Peter tightened his fists. “I am  _ not  _ like you.”

Harley raised an eyebrow. “Really? I may put up my walls, but so do you, except you hide behind smiles and an ideal life of nerdy, perfect boy. You throw yourself into your schoolwork like how I spend my hours  _ living my life.  _ You’re not better than me. You’re a hypocrite. So get off this pedestal you’ve gotten on because you’re nothing but a hypocritical, controlling, crybaby who just wants his mommy back so bad that he tries to prove himself to everyone to get a glimpse of the parental attention he didn’t get. And that’s one thing we’ll never have in common because instead of projecting my loss on others, I pay attention to what I still have. Because you know what? Even though I’m an orphan, I’ve still got family, and that’s something  _ you _ will never get back.” Harley spat out like a steady stream of venom.

“Fuck you,” Peter snaps, his eyes now glazed over with tears. He bit the inside of his mouth and went to his room, slamming the door. He had to get out of here. He wouldn’t cry, even if Harley wasn’t in his room, Peter wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying. He was fucking  _ Spider-Man _ for crying out loud. He was a goddamn superhero. Superheroes don’t cry over something like this.

He swung out of their apartment and through Queens. After only fifteen minutes, he heard a distant scream and went straight toward it. He wasn’t thinking straight. He was upset and mad and distracted. He shouldn’t have been out at all that night. He should’ve had better judgement and not gone out with the headspace he was in.

That’s how his recklessness led to things like this.

 

At 2AM Harley heard stumbling in Peter’s room. He knew Peter had immediately left as soon as he slammed the door, so now it was probably him coming back from being a hypocrite and what not. What was he even lecturing him about when Peter himself was stumbling in drunk off his own ass at 2AM?

He heard the other boy hobble out of his room and into the bathroom; he also heard some slurred cursing and soft groaning. Maybe Peter was sober enough to feel embarrassment and Harley could lecture  _ him _ for a change.

With a smug look and a plan Harley sauntered out to put down the younger boy, but when he peeked through the open bathroom door, his face turned white. All he saw was red. So much red

“Why the fuck are you bleeding?” He exclaimed. Peter barley paid any mind to it as he took so tweezers from a first aid kit and held his boxers up to get the bullet that was half lodged in his thigh. There was blood everywhere. Pooling around him, swiped across the counter from where he probably was gripping it earlier, deep in the grout of the tiles. Even in the first aid kit that looked way more used than it should’ve been.

“I needed air. Someone was holding a gun and pulled the trigger. You’re from the south, you know how it be.” He rambled casually as he continued to dig out the bullet wound like it was no big deal. He hissed as he muttered, “damn femoral artery.” Like this happened  _ all the time _ and was just a pain to deal with. 

“We need to call 911,” Harley said panicked, pulling out his phone as Peter threw a roll of gauze at him.

“No!” He insisted and then looked at the gauze on the floor. “Could you maybe get that? I kinda need it”

Harley huffed but bent down to pick it up and put it on the counter. “Why don’t you want to go to the hospital?” He asked as he looked at the phone and the gauze, unsure.

“Uh we’re broke for one.” Peter countered easily. “And it’s totally a common occurrence. No need to make a big deal of it.” Peter waved off.

Harley blanched. Was  _ this _ what Peter got up to? Getting shot? “What do you mean “ _ common occurrence?”  _ What do you even do?” Harley nearly screamed. Peter winced at the volume.

“Shh. Walls are thin, young one.” he said in a sage like manner. Like fucking Yoda. 

“Here, at least let me get it out,” Harley said as he kneeled down to his level to help, even though Harley knew absolutely nothing about treating a bullet wound. Peter held the tweezers just out of his reach.

“I’ll have you know good sir that I have done this on many of occasions.” That was even more alarming.

“When?”

“Wouldn’t you want to know, you beautiful beautiful man.” he leaned forward so their noses were almost touching. Harley looked at Peter’s chocolate eyes. They were getting bleary like he was in a daze. He was losing too much blood.

“Yeah I would, that’s why I asked, ya dill.” He joked meekly trying to grab for the tweezers. Peter suddenly looked sad.

“What’s the point of this anyway?” Peter nearly whispered and Harley stopped his pursuit for the tweezers.

“What are ya goin in about now?” Harley asked with almost a roll of his eyes if he weren’t so concerned at the matter at hand.

“I said what is even the fucking point? It’s like you said. I don’t have any family. I’ve got nothing to live for. I lost everything and I’m never getting it back. So what’s the point? There is no point in of me staying when everyone I love is gone.” Peter said and Harley was stunned for all of a moment. “I just wanna be with them again. I just wanna go home.” Peter said softer.

Harley felt like someone punched him in the gut. He is an absolute jackass. What the fuck was that even supposed to mean? Harley should know better than anyone that people have different coping mechanisms. That people were fragile with grief. He had been so mad at everything else and took it out on Peter. He said things that would hurt and that he couldn’t take back. He said those thing because he  _ knew _ they would hurt.

_ What the fuck was wrong with him? _

“You’re a dumbass and I have to help you because you’re a dumbass,” Harley said lamely because he had nothing else to say. Peter hummed and let Harley have the tweezers. It was only when he got a hold of them that he realized that he really didn’t know what to do. And that was a lot of blood.

“I’m sleepy. Night night.” Peter hummed again, and Harley knew for one thing, that Peter could  _ not _ go to sleep right now.

“You are  _ not _ going night night, Parker,” Harley said frantically and Peter hummed again lolling his head forward.

“Okie dokie.” he complied.

Harley looked over the wound again to figure out what he should do before he heard a soft groan. He looked up with a furrowed brow. Peter had gone paler in the time he looked down to inspect the wound. “Peter… are you okay?” he asked, leaning in closer, Peter groaned again before he vomited all over himself and Harley. It was mostly stringy bile, but still gross. 

“Whoopsie.” Peter responded unapologetically.

“Ah fuck, is this what it’s like to be with me?” Grossed out beyond belief, he hyperfocused on the task at hand. 

“Go to WebMD. Those guys are good,” Peter advised before promptly passing out, falling onto Harley who swiftly caught him before his head could come in contact with the bathroom tiles.  _ Wise advice for a guy who is dumb enough to get shot.  _ “Fuck fuck fuck,” Harley muttered.

He followed the first YouTube tutorial that came up from his Google search and prayed that there wasn’t anything else left in that bullet wound rather than that bullet which he had to dig out. With one of their more torn rags, he gently cleaned the wound, wrapping it in gauze when he finished. Harley didn’t realize he had been shaking until he had finished.

With an uneven breath, he peeled off his vomit soaked shirt and pants, leaving him in just a pair of boxer briefs. Concerned that Peter may be even more injured than he led, he also pulled his shirt off, pausing in shock.  _ Why is Peter as fit as a fiddle?  _ He shook his head.  _ Not the time. _

Rather than some old scars and the bruises already fading from his torso, there was nothing to be concerned about, so he left Peter on the ground of the bathroom, and hopped into the shower to just scrub off the feeling he could never forget. Crusty blood under his fingernails, the stench of bile on his skin, and all of the red. So much red all over his arms and body.

Not forgetting about Peter, he dried off behind the safety of the shower curtain, and quickly ran to his room to throw on pajamas, before coming back to the unconscious boy. He pulled a pair of his own sweatpants over the smaller boy’s legs so he wouldn’t get any blood on his bed, and carried the light boy over to his own bed now that he was in fresh clothes. Setting him down gently, he covered him with a throw blanket before moving to leave. However, Peter’s delirious, dormant mind thought otherwise, and his arm gripped a tight hold around Harley’s waist, yanking him toward the bed again. Stumbling into it, he landed right on top of Peter who groaned sleepily in response. Harley looked at him and then the hold that hasn’t let go and sighed as he made himself comfortable right there, being spooned by Peter, cautious not to move the carefully bandaged leg. Peter sighed in content. 

Harley looked down at the boy, his heart racing from shock and adrenaline. Taking a deep breath and staring at the sleeping teen, he whispered “good night, Peter,” before collapsing into sleep from exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of the first book! Yes, indeed there will be more to this series, so stick around. Starry and I have come together IRL to leave this A/N so here you go!
> 
> We're going to take a little between posting the next book to prepare it for your viewing so that it will be the best it can be. When we do post, we will keep up the Sunday updates hopefully. 
> 
> We wanted to thank each and every one of you for sticking around and taking the time to read our fic. We've put a lot of love and care into this story and we really hope you that you come back to read the second book. 
> 
> It feels like closing a chapter in our story, and we depart from this era of "oh my god they were roommates" to "*gasp* and they were roommates." But in all seriousness, thank you again.
> 
> If you want to chat, our Tumblrs are StarryKitty013 and official-impravidus

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Suddenly I’m left reeling and you’re walking away, (please don’t leave me)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21843220) by [the_fifth_marauder101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_fifth_marauder101/pseuds/the_fifth_marauder101)
  * [and they were roommates [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132815) by [impravidus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impravidus/pseuds/impravidus)




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